The Notebook

Its our Spanish Papa's Wake and the whole village has gathered with us to offer their sympathies and to Share The Sorrow (see posts Share The Sorrow and Gathering And Remembering). Darkness has now fallen, night is upon us and most of the earlier visitors with a few exceptions have come and gone, but our small family of four, Mama, Sis, my English niece Zara and myself are still here. I am now beginning to understand the essential idea of The Wake; for the elapsed time between death and burial, the immediate family remains awake and accompanies the deceased during their last hours in this world never leaving the body unattended for one single minute. By remaining awake for this entire period of time and Sharing The Sorrow with little or no food and drink, the family feel and share some of the physical suffering of the deceased as he faces his last struggle before going over to The Other Side. Anyone that wishes to can pass by at any time of day or night to pay their final respects, and we the family are there to receive them and to acknowledge their kind gesture.

Now I remember Mama telling me as a child how Grandma Filomena, Mama’s Mama, oversaw her own husband’s funeral with a beady eye, making detailed mental notes of who complied with etiquette and attended and who did not. Mama said that in between wailing and sobbing, some of the strictest Mamas would similarly find time to furtively note the name of all those that attended The Wake and burial of their loved ones. Any deviation from respectful behaviour would also be noted. This information would be stored away for future village wakes and burials. Breaking with protocol of course came with its own consequences; similar non-compliance at the next funeral of said non-complying family. I now see that within each village, The Wake and subsequent burial is an internal power struggle for clan superiority. The more persons attend, the greater the family prestige. The hierarchy of family expected to oversee The Wake is also important; first and foremost, spouse followed by children, preferably all, then grandchildren, some absences here allowed. I look around at our family of four and note that we have complied with standard requirements respectfully.

Despite the later hour, new visitors arrive in a slow and gentle stream, offering their sympathies to our small family and then staying on for a few hours to chat. The old ladies of the village that arrived as soon as the doors open hours earlier are still there, seated nearby on the other side of the coffin to our family, chatting with one another, sometimes dozing off but clearly in no hurry to go anywhere. Cousins arrive after finishing their shift work, young parents come by after putting their children to bed, all find the time to pass by and accompanying us with Papa on his last day on earth. Mama insists on staying by Papa's body until the moment of the funeral so Sis, Zara and I share the final night hours between us, and in this way Mama is accompanied during her final moments with Papa. In between our night shifts we return to the apartment for a few hours of snatched sleep. On my night shift with Mama I talk with Cousin Sebastian.

I have never had a brother and Sebastian is as close as I will ever get. He asks me about my life in Finland and how Wakes are organized there, how do they compare to Spain? I tell him that I am not an expert having been only to three funerals in my entire life, but the one I remember most clearly is the first one, that of Sofia's and Hugo's Finnish Great-grandmother, Elisabet. And in the dim-lit and hushed surroundings of the Mortuary, I return with Cousin Sebastian back in time to the early years of my life in Finland. To a time of contentment, filled with fond recollections and inextricably intertwined with Grandma Elisabet.

To be continued....


Next post 24th February: Grandma Elisabet And The Hayshoes


Note: All written content is the intellectual property of this Author. Image material is drawn largely from Pixabay with some small additions from private family archives.