The Wake

Sadly, I had to attend a wake this past Sunday for a family friend. My mom, my sister and I went together. Wakes are not events that I enjoy attending (honestly, I don’t enjoy most events where there will be family members). I never feel like I know what to say or how to act. It’s awkward.

Having to see a person’s body in that way is not how I want to remember anyone. By ‘that way’ I mean, made up and oddly embalmed. The person never ever looks like the way they did when they were alive. I don’t entirely understand why Catholics believe in an open casket wake in the first place.

I remember the first time I had to go to a wake. I was 10 and my paternal grandfather had passed away. We weren’t very close but he was still my grandfather. What I remembered most about him were his glasses, his nose and this wine colored birthmark he had on his neck. When I went up to the casket at the wake, I looked for that birthmark. It wasn’t there. The morticians had covered it. Perhaps they thought it was some bruise from his death. It has since stayed with me.

That moment has always made me uncomfortable regardless of whose wake I go to. I just feel like I keep checking for some kind of ‘tell’ that the morticians messed up. It’s not an appropriate thing to do at a wake…but I don’t know how to not do it either.

And then I get very emotional thinking about people I love and what would happen if they ever pass away. I guess it would be better if there was some way to turn a switch so you don’t get overly emotional at wakes or you don’t look for inconsistencies with the people you used to know.

Oh well, it’s not a wonderful topic to discuss in a blog entry but I just felt like writing about it.