| The Tragedy Of Entertainment | |
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30 Sep 2005 @ 10:55, by Laura Griffin
I went to a funeral today, my first funeral, but not the funeral of somebody of whom I was particularly close...
... What struck me during this service, this Christian service of a man who wasn't a Christian, was the shallowness of the words, the words spoken by the Priest- a kindly fellow- they were so insufficient, those words... A man, the dead man I'm referring to, an individual, summarized as a being in just a few sentences that didn't scratch the beyond the surface of fact! Facts! The fact that he enjoyed spending time in the garden, the fact that he was interested in plants, the fact that he visited his (now ninety-seven year old) mother regularly... The fact that he was disappointed when, due to ill health he was forced to relinquish his driving license, and the fact he will be remembered for having a plant stall at Wimborne market. After the delicate listing of these facts, the casket of the subject of these facts, was then slowly and automatically, by means of electronical device, plunged- as if occupying a sunken bath- into a hole that had been concealed under the clothed table... And throughout this, this... gesture of a burial... accompanying this gesture of a burial... was the most insipid yet smotheringly sentimental music, that, on receiving, forced my mind to wander into a Hollywood landscape of tearful goodbyes, of Lassie and loved ones leaving... How can I concentrate on my goodbye? How can I? How can I be near, near this man, in the hole like a bath and the music from Movies? But it is normal! It is a comfort to conventional sensibilities, so I am told... But such pain to witness collective acceptance of such spurious beauty! And such beauty it would be to celebrate feeling real pain...
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Category: Death & Dying
2 comments
1 Oct 2005 @ 09:25 by : Astride A Grave
A moving evocation Laura. I think a memorial in which mourners can feel free to express themselves is best. The priest or leader can step aside, after he does his thing, and allow silence or anyone to try to say it, to dance it, to wail it. A few years ago I saw my wife's Hungarian grandmother lift the upper part of her dead husband's body up out of the coffin and cradle him in her arms like a baby, moaning loudly throughout. The sight of such an Old Country approach to grief was intensely liberating for me. For others it was not...but so what?
1 Oct 2005 @ 12:32 by poopac2222 : Do you believe in shame?
That's amazing... imagine doing that in Britain or America! I expect other people would paint you with shame. But surely, avoidance of potential shame is the main cause of fear to be truly at one with ourselves. Perhaps, one day, shame will- like the appendix- become entirely defunct? Or would it be dangerous to eradicate shame?
Other entries in Death & Dying
19 Oct 2007 @ 05:59: Mother's Last Gift
31 May 2007 @ 11:00: The Sudden Death of Ken Ogger
16 Jul 2006 @ 06:52: Just One more LOA story...
28 Nov 2005 @ 06:53: Eulogy.. to a cat
25 Oct 2005 @ 04:56: Rosa Parks!
6 Jul 2005 @ 01:52: Dying With Dignity
31 Mar 2005 @ 05:13: Terri Shiavo
22 Mar 2005 @ 16:15: Passion Play
28 Dec 2004 @ 19:40: The day the earth shook! Tsunami and Sumatran disaster.
12 Oct 2004 @ 22:40: Morris (Mashe) Kodish (Oct. 21, 1910-Oct. 12, 2004)
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