Greetings from the north side of the US/Canada divide, from a shockingly frigid Montreal. This morning when I eventually succeeded in starting my car, the temperature read -3 F.
I have much to write about the three days I have spent here among my family and friends, but I will really compose the post that has been writing itself in my spare moments when I get back home. For now, as I sit at my mother’s computer that is right next to the mourners’ chairs, I am preparing to return to my real life before the reality blur that was the funeral and Shiva and the reflective/happy gathering (from 6 cities in the 2 countries) of my 2 sisters and eleven of my twelve first cousins.
Shiva, named for the Hebrew word sheva, or seven, is the seven-day mourning period during which the immediate family of the deceased sit on low chairs and people who wish to pay their respects visit the Shiva house (in this case, my parents’ home).
The circumstances surrounding the death always inform the tenor of the gathering. In this case, my aunt had been very ill and her death was considered a blessing and a great relief to the many people who had watched or been aware of her suffering. My aunt’s death was not a shock to anyone and although we knew we were together for a sombre reason, and shared stories and recollection of our aunt, we also had a chance to reconnect and chat for the first time in years.
So what began as lots of whispers and neutral-faced hugs quickly shifted to good-natured joking around, some laughter and some silliness. We cousins range from 57 to 36 years old and many of us had not seen each other in over 5 years; we talked politics, we talked kids and schools and we laughed a great deal. My aunt would have been the center of attention and I know we were all pretty clear that she was there, laughing and enjoying the family’s gathering along with us.
I am so glad I was here to share in this ritual to say goodbye to my aunt. Also, to soak in nuances of inter-familial regard, bits of surprising gossip, and some serious unconditional love from beloved family.
Uh, and some POWERFUL pathology.
I think this is such a beautiful tradition, and I wish that we could figure out a way to integrate it into our larger culture. Everything is so rushed, and I don’t feel (especially after losing April and the whirlwind that was her memorial services) that we take sufficient time to mourn and remember.
I’m glad to hear that it’s been a positive experience for you, pathology aside. I’m looking forward to cocoa and cookies when you get back, so you can tell me your stories.
P.S., did you get my text?
love!
Chili
It was a cathartic, intense gathering, and I think we all benefited from the opportunity to be sad and remember Auntie Shirley in our own ways. We DID have sufficient time to mourn and recall who she was to all of us, to look at photos of her and her work (she made magnificent wedding gowns), and to be in the same room with cousins after we’d all scattered to the winds a very long time ago.
It was a positive experience and one that ended with all of us looking forward to my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah as the next (in this case joyous),occasion for us to gather. They’re ALL coming and I am so happy.
And OY do I have stories. Cookies and cocoa sound perfect.
As we get older it seems that the only times us cousins get together is for a memorial service of some kind. Sad it is, but we always have a good time and hold the dearly departed right there in our midst and hearts. It becomes a party of celebration at some point. It makes the sadness a different thing.
Sorry for your loss, happy for you and your cousins.
Thank you, Laurie.
Yes, such a gathering IS a celebration of a life well lived. I think it’s really the best way to grieve properly – to acknowledge, to remember, and to laugh. The sadness is there still, but we were very clear she would have loved being there with us.
Funerals have great power, especially if they are turned into a postive experience like you describe.