Irish Wake

I went to an Irish wake last night.

In the old days, in Ireland and in other Celtic countries, the wake was a big party with lots of dancing and drinking to give the deceased person a good send-off. The corpse in its coffin was usually present as the guest of honour, but nowadays it seems folks are a little more sensitive about such things, and only the living attend.

I didn't really know the fellow who died very well. He was a co-worker of my husband, and died in an unfortunate accident with his truck a couple of weeks back. The funeral back in February was for close family only, but it seemed like there were several hundred people at his wake. Originally Jeff and I had planned to make only a short appearance at the wake out of respect and then leave.

But then I ran into a couple people I know quite well there and we had a great conversation. Jeff soon found himself deep in conversation too.

I live in a small town and it seems like everybody knows everybody. If you didn't know the dead person, you were probably a friend of a friend of him. It turns out his ex-wife used to be in my bellydance class, and the father of one of my good friends grew up with him.

The wake was held at the local Legion hall. Lots of food, an open bar, people milling around laughing and chatting with beer bottles in hand, dance music playing, piles of kids running around, and the occasional family member saying something over the PA system: there was very little to distinguish it from many wedding receptions I've been to.

It was certainly not a funereal atmosphere.

Well, there was a table full of photographs of the deceased and his family. Also present on the table: his jacket and helmet from his drag-racing hobby, the wheel from his racing car, a bottle of Glen Fiddich whiskey and his favourite kind of chocolates.

A guy at the table we were sitting at mused : "Look at all these people! Ever wonder who will show up for your funeral?"

I do wonder about that occasionally. In fact, I'm rather curious. I hope there's some sort of clause when you die that allows you to pop in invisibly to your funeral/wake just to check out who showed, like in the TV show Six Feet Under.

A friend of mine attending this event has said upon occasion that yes, she wants a fuss to be made when she dies. Ideally, she'd like one of those Viking funerals where they put your remains on a great dragon-prowed boat, and then light the boat on fire and push it out to sea where it burns like an enormous pyre. That kind of funeral would probably draw a crowd, although it almost certainly would violate some local bylaw or other.

Hmmmm...it seems a little much to me. How about sprinkling my ashes under a nice peaceful tree?

(Although I ultimately prefer the concept of a simple funeral, I have to admit the Victorian image of plumed horses draped in black and a troupe of keening veiled women does have a certain satisfying je ne sais quoi , but nahhhh....)

But we both can agree that at the very least, in the event of our sad demise, our friends should use it as an excuse for a great party.

Hey, we've both got Irish blood. It's traditional.