Burial is a kinda rite of passage. The whole death “he was surrounded by his wife and loving family”, the whole “sorry for your loss”, “the wake house”, men carrying a coffin or increasingly the women and children pushing a coffin, a church or other service, Eulogy. photographs and items to represent the newly departed (his golf club or her crochet needles) Abide With Me or Lady of Knock depending on the affiliation…or for those of us who want to leave the audience/congregation laughing, cremated to “Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire”. And “John’s family invite you to a buffet in…”
It is a ritual. The same ritual really but customised to make it all less traumatic and more personal.
In the 1970s my uncles and aunts started dying. I never went to their funerals. Id like to say that I had a good reason but I was just…callous and selfish.
When my father died 40 years ago, the undertaker coaxed me out of not putting an insertion in the Irish News. Apparently people take it badly if they are not told about the death of an old co-worker, neighbour or school friend.
I never look at death notices in The Irish News. Nor the online versions. I have undoubtedly missed funerals that I should have attended.
Public Funerals. Private Funerals.
In Norn Iron, we may or may not be moral. But we are criminal. Whether we like it or not, a lot of people prior to 1998 spent time locked up for heinous crimes. Of course, many would say “well that was not criminal” .
The worst crime is Murder. Or is it?
The Bible encourages us to visit prisoners. It also says that “it would be better to have a millstone tied around your neck”.
Rehabilitating offenders is difficult. An “ordinary decent criminal” will not be employed in the civil service. A fraudster will not be employed in the banking sector. And the worst offence of all…well getting out of prison as a sex offender…well your career opportunities are very limited.
Perhaps a 1970s rock star can retreat behind a gated mansion in the countryside and maybe a tradesman like a plumber, mechanic, bricklayer can set up business in another part of the country. But even in death, opportunities are limited.
Last week, the victim of a prolific abuser stated he wanted the offender buried in an unmarked grave. It is certainly understandable. But I am not sure a victim can have a veto on a funeral.
An unmarked grave is an awful thought. As I type this there are people searching for the remains of victims of our Troubles believed to be buried in bogland in County Monaghan. Tonight RTÉ News is reporting a young boy in north Dublin has not been seen for years and may have been buried secretly.
Moors murderer Ian Brady? Wasn’t he cremated in almost secret. And Osama Bin Ladin dumped at sea?
Earlier this year, I attended a funeral. The grief of the family compounded by the fact that their middle aged, unmarried brother had died alone and the body not discovered for a few days. It was not a case of family break down…just nobody had thought to make a phone call or call around to his house.
Who actually “owns” a body? Can family fall outs be so bad that a family member will be disowned…perhaps thru his heinous criminality that the next of kin will just say “nothing to do with me. His social worker can handle the paperwork”
A funeral can be the last service we can give to a beloved family member. An Honour. A Privilege. Maybe for some…an Embarrassment. A Humiliation.
A legacy of the Troubles is that a lot of us were at school in the 1960s and a lot of our schoolfriends went to prison. And our co-workers and neighbours in the 1980s. Often for heinous crimes. Certainly their actions might make employment difficult. On the other hand, it might actually help them get a job.
And if you live in a posh part of Norn Iron, relatively unaffected by those thirty years, might be outraged that I could run into a person I once knew in the most innocent of circumstances and chat to them.
Several years ago, I recognised an old colleague looking at me in Castle Court in Belfast. He seemed like he was going to approach me but I moved away. An ex-prisoner. But one of the “millstone round his neck” kind.
Such offenders will get out of prison and will wait one year, ten years, several years for a funeral. But the reality is that they are already dead. At best, the comparative luxury of an inherited home and a state or other pension. At worst a NIHE flat in a so called sink estate and living on benefits. Miserable existence that many of us would consider well deserved.
Until…a private funeral without mourners or maybe being old enough to get into an old peoples home.
Hell is a lonely place whether on this side of Death or the other side of Death.
Retired man with a smartpass on public transport. Husband/Father/Grandfather. Celtic FC and Manchester United FC. Occasional SDLP member but they cant stand the sight of me. Hypocrite who despises Hypocrisy. Gets along with eveybody except LetsGetAlongerists. Wary of Conflict Resolution.
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