sashinka | observation orientated, with a twist of lime | a blog

Anyway, while I was hanging around waiting for my MOT, there was a funeral going from the catholic church across the road. All pomp and ceremony: two big flower arrangements that said "MOTHER" in some proto-Victorian style, a see-through.... black bordered, glass carriage, drawn by four black horses. Couple of hundred people (and I'm in the conference business, so I'm accurate at guessing crowds), lots of incense, but probably no mhyyr (if that's how you spell it).

Got me to thinking about how Jewish funerals are (I try so hard not to be hello-I'm-Jewish, but I can't help myself); generally very low on pomp and cirumstance, mostly about humility. Like, people don't dress up; you're supposed to be humble before God. Although, that may be more of a Manchester thing; in London, funerals are dressier. No flowers, plain box. And quick - generally the same/next day. I remember when I was at school my RE teacher's mother died and she told us they had to wait for ten days for some family member to come home and her mother started... decomposing. I had nightmares about that for years.

Also, you don't leave the body alone; someone sits with the deceased until the funeral, and says psalms. My brother did it for a neighbour when he was a teenager, and I think it was dead scary.

I've just had a - certain sense of deja vu: I've said most of this before (Z says I have a proof-text story for every ocassion) - go, read.