A-wake

Years ago I read somewhere that the reason we have living rooms (or call them that) is because parlors were frequently used to hold viewings of deceased loved ones, thus, a room for the living was created/named. I’m not sure if this is fact or fiction, but it’s interesting and sometimes interesting wins.

 

Being that I would be attending a wake for the father-in-law of BeCuz, and that he was a very traditional Northern Irish man, I decided to do a little research before going so that I could be respectful of the preferences and beliefs of him and his family.

 

The first thing I learned was how wakes (supposedly) came to be. Some believe they started when Irish would drink stout from pewter mugs, get lead poisoning, assume a catatonic (often appearing to be dead) state, and others would watch over them until they woke. The second thing I learned – third really, the second thing I learned is not to drink from pewter mugs – is wakes are held to celebrate the life of the deceased. This seems a bit more likely and is definitely the reason most people hold wakes.

 

I also learned the blinds or curtains are drawn in the homes of the deceased and in neighbors’ homes, clocks are stopped (at the time of death), and mirrors are often covered. In addition, a window is opened in the home of the deceased so their spirit may leave the house. It is important that this open window not be blocked by a person or object because doing so may prevent the spirit from leaving and could result in bad luck for the person in the way of spirit. This last belief was probably the most important for me to learn. With my bout of hot flashes I am definitely drawn to open windows and definitely do not want desire misfortune to come my way. Fortunately, the window had been closed by the time arrived – it is only left open long enough (a couple of hours) for the spirit to leave and the closed so the spirit cannot return.

 

With all of this knowledge before me I took the last bit of knowledge I learned – guests can and should bring food and drink for the surviving family – grabbed a bottle of his favorite Irish whiskey, Bushmill’s Black Bush, and headed to the wake ready to pay respects. BeCuz kindly greeted me (I read about this as well), accepted the whiskey and asked that I keep it in my car until the funeral because the first wake (there are often two), held the night prior, ended with a lot of drunkenness that carried on until the wee hours of the morning. “Are you sure it wasn’t lead poisoning?” I asked. “I’m not sure of anything,” she replied and added, “I woke up to my backdoor wide open.” “I opened the door to let the spirits escape from his ass,” said a friend of the family who was referring to another friend who was farting during his drink-induced sleep. “Aye, Irish tradition,” said the another guest. Based on the number of egg and onion salad sandwiches that were in the kitchen I have a feeling this was true.

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