Irish Mannerisms: Funerals

Funerals are a common segment of existence, even the least religious folk of society engage in some outline of a ceremony celebrating and remembering the life of a person who has died. Whenever I am caught up in an outburst ranting about how much college work I have to complete or how necessary it is that I attend a certain event my mother is quick to voice that 'the only thing you have to do in life is die.' Lovely thought, eh?

Ireland is an odd country on so many levels. We are the only nation to regularly lament over the laws prohibiting driving under the influence of alcohol and conversations over the quality of potatoes do actually take place on a biweekly basis. Omitting all this, one thing I've recently noticed is that funerals for most Irish people are actual entertaining and slightly enjoyable events. My own father being a prime illustration of this.

If funerals were like Father Ted, I'd be addicted too.

Frequently, he gets word of a death and I've had to genuinely caution him against attending. For example, merely a few months ago a conversation similar to this unfolded when all six members of my family were out cruising in the car.

Mother: 'Hence, why I can no longer eat apples they just give me bad wind' She had just settled a short story detailing an awkward encounter she had experienced with the local parish priest.

The father's mobile phone rings and all five of the rest of us are forced into silence (we are all too nosey to just bypass the opportunity of some news.)

Father: 'That's awful news, I'm shocked. But thanks for letting me know. I'll ring you later this evening for the details.' He hangs up the phone.

The silence prolongs.

Father: 'I'm after receiving some bad news, there has been a death.' The large chap fighting back tears.

Younger sister: 'Who?' First off the mark, this girl never leaves down her phone strictly out of fear she'd miss something and is just about the most gossipy of our crew.

Father: 'Do you know your granny's neighbour Johnny?' Tears emerging and beginning to stream across his bewildered face.

Speechlessness. My family in certain scenarios have trouble displaying sincerity.

Father: '.....his daughter Maggie, was three years younger than me at school.'

Silence again. Although this time due to the uncertainty lying within all of us that there was more to this tale.

Father: '.....her husband Matthew hails from north Mayo country, lovely man met him once at their wedding twenty three years ago, Kathy you were there too if you can recall.'

Mother: 'Oh, Jesus a young ma....' Her cue of compassion interrupted mid-way through by my father.

Father: '.....his mother has been poorly for sometime now and she died this morning, may she rest in peace.' His little report morphs into the transcript of a death notice bulletin from a local radio station.

Everyone in the car grasps that his announcement is over and commence to console him and praise the life of the recently deceased woman. Except for me, who at this stage would have launched into an inappropriately timed tantrum about how he shall not dare show up at that funeral as it is not expected. Because politeness aside, why should he? He did not know the woman. If he saw her on the street would he recognize her? The last time he spoke to her son was at a function where there was over two hundred guests, over two decades ago. It just doesn't make sense.

The presumption I've contrived about my father, along with many like him is slightly long winded. Instead of judging someone by something trivial like their character or their accomplishments, the world through their eyes evaluates everyone based solely on one criteria: their funeral. May it be the size, how mournful and heartbroken the family were or how soothing the choir music was. Maybe, it even goes to the extreme that certain people assume that a good funeral might be the decider to their afterlife. When Saint Peter reviews their life, their sins and good deeds will be a minor footnote compared to quality of their funeral. Or then perchance I am just over thinking the lifestyle of a land of gossips.