The Catholic ritual of the funeral remains a constant, unchanged mark in a mourner's life. We stand, we face the back of the church, we watch as the priest blesses the coffin for the deceased final mass.
We watch as the pallbearers gently escort the coffin down the aisle, lead by the priest, followed by husband and son, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. Our bodies turn from the back to the front as the mourners sing.
There are more blessings, the readings, the sermon, communion, another blessing, eulogies and a final goodbye. The coffin is wheeled back down the aisle for one last journey, to a grave or crematorium.
The music sounds out of place. How can one sing while feeling such loss?
The husband can barely walk. Each step is an effort, as if he cannot remember how. He holds his hands in front of him, his fingers full of nervous energy. His face is broken.
The son is stoic and will not look anyone in the eye. He stands straight, he walks a few steps in front, a few steps in back of his father. His face is wooden, contained.
No one stays for the cookies and coffee. We have not the appetite for sugar and small talk. We watch as the hearse, limo and long line of cars drive away from the church.
The only Catholic funeral I've ever witnessed was Pope John Paul II. I got up at 3 am to watch it.
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Beautiful description Jenn. I am sorry about your loss. I'm not Catholic but I grew up in that tradition. For me it is the smell of the Catholic incense that brings back memories of loved ones who have passed away.
ReplyDeleteLutheran funerals are much the same. We usually have a choir. Saying goodbye to older folks you knew is hard, but once we had to bury a three-year-old who'd drowned in a swimming-pool accident. That was probably the worst, way harder on me than my own parents.
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