An Island Funeral

A few years ago my brother and I had the chance to visit Frida Kahlo's house in Mexico City. It was a charming old blue house that belonged to her family before her, a place she she was born, and where she lived and died. In the little blue house was a quote from Frida that really touched me. She said:

"Es un privilegio nacer y morrir en la misma casa."
("It is a privilege to be born and to die in the same house.")

My grandmother had this very privilege. She has the privilege of being born, having lived, and passing her last days in her home, in the land that she loved, the place of her fore-parents, and of her children.

My beloved grandmother, who I lived with through childhood and who I am named after, passed away on September 20, on the Island of Guanaja, Bay Islands, Honduras. She was sitting in her chair, resting, surrounded by family and friends. There was no struggle. No fear. No gasping. Only calm sleep. Her last words were "I'm tired." Now she can rest peacefully.

I've watched every episode of the series Six Feet Under. In the show, as with life in much of the United States and other developed countries, you give your loved one's body over to professionals and they take care of everything for you. The family hardly needs to do a thing but comfort each other, and show up for the funeral. There is something positive to be said about not having to worry about any preparations.

On the Bay Islands however, Death, preparations, funerals, could hardly be more different. On the islands, there are no funeral homes, no professionals to hand things over to. What we have on the islands are friends, family, and few local undertakers who can be called on to help with practical things. Yet there is also something positive to be said for death as experienced in the raw - intimate, present.

Here are some of our experiences dealing with the passing of a loved one. I think it gives a window into how Bay Islanders deal with death and funerals:

After my grandmother died my sister laid beside her on her bed for hours. My sister and my mom also helped dressing her. It was the most natural thing in the world for them.

Many of the little details that need taken care of after any death were arranged for or given by our friends and family: food for the wake, flowers, the casket, even the preservation of the body. On the islands, if you want to preserve your loved one for more than two-three days, what is usually done is to lay them on ice in a box. This is how my grandmother was preserved so that other family could make it to the funeral. I was about to leave for home when she passed, and my uncle and other relatives had to get there as well.

Since there are no funeral homes, the wakes are held at the family house, usually with the ice box on the porch as we did. A family friend offered to prepare Granny's body for us for the viewing - she only does this for close friends and does it as a gift. This has to happen a few hours before the funeral ceremony so the body can defrost a bit. We waited elsewhere as she supervised getting Granny out of the ice box, and prepared the final touches. She did an amazing job. Granny's body looked so natural and nice. We were so appreciative of this kindness.

I spend much of the rest of the time with Granny's body, making sure it was ready. Blotting off the moisture that gathered from her arms. Helping pin fresh flowers on her dress. Covering-up with make-up a few red spots off her neck. Adding a bit more color to her lips and cheeks. I knew I wouldn't choose to see her at the funeral viewing, as is the tradition at the end of the service. These were my last moments with her, tactile, with my hands.

As far as funeral goes it was the most celebratory service I've been to. It wasn't about her potential, or a handful of good things we remember, but a genuine celebration of who she was. She was, in the words of a friend, a pure soul. The service was a celebration of the life she lived in generosity and kindness, her meek and gentle heart. A life that all of us can try to imitate.
My own tribute included Jesus' sermon on the mount, The Beatitudes of Matthew 5 :
"Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the earth"
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God"
And the text that seems cut out for especially my mother,

"Blessed are those who morn for they will be comforted."

The preacher gave us a bit of a laugh when he said I had stolen his sermon his - he also focused on the Beatitudes! But, he rightly noted that any memory of her must necessarily include these text - because everyone who knew her would agreed they are a mirror of her Christlike character. We can only hope to live a life which can be celebrated this way at our own funerals.

For the burial we loaded ourselves on a friends Shrimp boat and steamed a short distance to the main island. About two centuries old, many of the first British settlers are buried on the graveyard above. Her family, the Kirkconnell's, lay around the big tree on the hill to the left.

Burials on the islands are fairly simple, a few words and a scripture usually from the Psalms, a prayer, and then every one joins in singing hymns. We sing as the casket is lowered into a hole in the earth six feet under, is then covered completely, and finally adorned with flowers. Thus we said our goodbye's to a beloved member of the community, a faithful friend, mother, and grandmother. She lives in our hearts and inspires us to be better people. May she Rest in Peace.