Yesterday we attended a service to commemorate the life of a man whose life was cut short following a crushing stroke. He was the husband of a cousin and father of four. It wasn’t a funeral service — that had been a private one earlier. His three surviving sons and widow spoke as well as a former work colleague whilst we watched a parade of family photos on the screen behind them.
I’ve called it a commemorative service because his life was documented, commented on and some of his exploits chuckled over. But it was really a wake. The dictionary tells us that a wake is a vigil held beside the body of someone who has died; or a party which is held after a funeral. To me it is a mark of respect for the deceased, as the word party doesn’t seem right conjuring up pictures of people having lots of loud fun — music, merriment and jollity. Whereas a wake seems more like a tribute to the dead and thus a comfort to those family left behind to mourn.
It is a great way to explore the life of the one who has left us, a way for friends and loved ones to reminisce about their experiences and for them to remember fondly. Rarely do you hear anything derogatory about the dead, but all the good things are remembered and related. Glasses are raised in salute to them and I’m guessing that a lot of exaggeration goes hand in hand with them. So friends, work colleagues and family gather together to tell their stories, have a drink and indulge in some unhealthy food. You hear laughter and see many tears and it can take you back to your other experiences of wakes. We had several of them following Kelly’s death and they were a comfort to us. We heard stories about her that were new to us, and we felt pride in what was being said about her — comforted that others loved her for who she was as well as us.
During the service my mind drifted to the one day when one of us departs this earth, and I wondered what would be said about us. Would there be the laughter and inflated stories; the glasses raised to toast our lives. What sort of impression have we left on this earth; will anyone wax poetic about our exploits over the years. Will we be remembered fondly, virtues extolled and tearfully marked? Would there be sadness?
I’d like the loud music I think and not too much reverence as that can make people feel uncomfortable. I like comfort and thin k it should be the order of the day. So how will you be remembered — what do you want people to reminisce about when you leave this world ?