Photo by Yutacar on Unsplash
I wrote, last time, about the recent death of my brother Nick. It is his funeral next week, or at least, that’s when we will all come together. We are not calling it a funeral, but rather a celebration of his life. There will be sorrow of course, but we would rather remember the good times he had, instead of weeping now he is gone.
He had a long life and a good life and it was, simply, his time to go. His family and friends will be there to speak of him and share stories about occasions spent in his company and, after the cremation, we will all raise a glass in his memory. Hopefully it will be a really good, red wine like the ones he so enjoyed – he kept a great cellar.
His favourite place to be in the world was on the balcony of the upstairs sitting room in the 16th century mill house where he and his wife Marie lived together for over thirty years. He would sit there for hours, glass of wine and cigar in hand, looking out over the lake opposite their house.
The seasons brought a changing landscape, but Nick particularly loved to marvel as the starlings gathered in murmurations, listen for the booming of the bitterns and to watch the yachts of the local sailing club going out when the wind was right. He had enjoyed sailing for many years since his youth. We have decided to scatter his ashes on the lake.
He would chat to walkers going by on the lane below and often went down to meet them and tell them all about the history of the old house, with its millrace and the land behind it that is a designated SSSI because of the rare orchids that bloom there in spring and early summer.
It is a shame he will only be with us in spirit next week, for he always loved a good chin-wag over a drink or two. Clearly, it’s impossible, but it would be lovely if one could actively take part in one’s own end-of-life gathering. Given that the occasion is often a rare coming together of all the people who have been so important throughout a life, it seems wrong, somehow, to be the only person that is present but not able to participate.
My sister-in-law, Nick’s wife, Marie, was very much in this frame of mind when she gave an unusual party several years ago. She had been musing on the fact that it was sad she would miss her own funeral and, more importantly, the wake. Marie is Irish, from Tipperary, with a soft Irish lilt to her voice and the love of a good get-together. In Ireland wakes are seen very much as a final party in honour of the departed. They are not hushed and reverential affairs, but instead, often involve music, dancing and singing. With this in mind, Marie suddenly announced she was going to hold a “Living Wake”.
She invited all the family – both our side and her own, who all came over from Ireland. She invited all her friends, although some turned the invite down because they were uncomfortable with the concept. I am unsure why, perhaps they felt it irreverent? But despite this, the turnout was good and we all gathered in the garden of the Mill House on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
I wasn’t sure what was actually going to happen - I was half expecting Marie to rise up out of a mock coffin and join the party once we had started without her. In the end it was just like an ordinary party with lots of laughter, chatting, eating, drinking and dancing but with its rather unusual theme.
Marie had asked us each to choose a song we felt relevant for the occasion and one of the guests complied them into a playlist. There were all sorts of tracks from Peter Cook and Dudley Moore singing “Goodbye-ee” and “Never can say Goodbye” by Gloria Gaynor to “Don’t You Forget About About Me” by Simple Minds and Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky.” People had been very inventive.
My brother Nick chose “We Will All Go Together When We Go” by the American musician, mathematician and satirist Tom Lehrer. Lehrer wrote the song at the end of the 1950s parodying the growing fear of the atom bomb and the cold war. It is certainly irreverent, but suggests that it’s probably better to all go at once so nobody will be left behind and have to grieve. An interesting thought.
The highlight of the afternoon was when Marie burst out through the back door wearing a black outfit and a crazy wig to the strains of “Like A Bat Out of Hell” by Meatloaf and then got everyone to join her on the patio ‘dance floor’.
Later, she gave a speech to say she hoped that all present would also come to her real funeral and wake when she dies. She does not, she said, want anyone to mourn then, but to enjoy themselves as they had done that day.
I agree with her sentiment. We all know that by living, we will inevitably die. It is different, of course, if someone we love has been taken too soon. Then the grief is hard to bear. But if they have been lucky enough to have a long and fulfilling life, we should all be comfortable with death and accept it as the natural way of things.
As I get older I think often about my own mortality: my husband and children all know what I wish for my own funeral and the aftermath. One of the songs I have chosen to be played is “Good Times” by the American R&B band, Nile Rogers and Chic. It is a disco soul song that is one of my favourite tunes to dance around the kitchen to. I have seen Chic play it live several times, with good friends, with my husband and most recently with my daughters who both love it too.
I want it to remind them of happy times when we were having fun and were full of joie de vivre. On second thoughts, perhaps it might be a good idea to take Marie’s lead and hold a living wake where we can all dance to the song together and there will be no need for mourning for I am not yet gone.
My brother Nick had not made any specific requests for his passing so, for the service, my sister and I have chosen two pieces of classical music for the entrance and a period of reflection. That is when we will do our weeping. For the final farewell we decided Nick might have liked the Tom Lehrer song he chose at Marie’s living wake. It made him laugh, he liked its irreverence and it will remind the rest of us of a sunny afternoon when we all shared an experience with him when he was still alive.
We all have to find our own way of dealing with the loss of someone we love. At such a difficult time, some of us take succour from traditional rituals. Others want to do things differently. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. All that’s important is that we mark their passing in a way we think they might have wanted and that it leaves us with important memories to hold onto over the coming months and years, so they are not forgotten.
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Thanks for getting in touch Elaine. And for your kind words. It must have been hard to lose a younger brother- 61 is too young to die. I’m interested you’ve found the Irish to be more open and accepting of death. Like you, I think they have a much better attitude than many other Europeans. I am so pleased you felt a connect with my essay. I hope you continue to enjoy my writing. Please share it if you know others that might also enjoy.
Than you Jan. So kind of you to get in touch. It would please me greatly if my words could bring comfort to others too. Thanks too for subscribing to my Home Truths x