A real Irish wake

I remember my grandmother, Lillian Lord, talking about her father, Charles, who was a furniture maker and undertaker in Brockville.  She used to tell me about how her father went to the homes of the deceased, cleaned them up, dressed them and laid them out in the parlour in preparation for the wake.  "The Lord came down to bury the dead," her friends used to tease her.  It stuck with me.  

As  child, my mother often took me to Hulse and Playfair when she visited the family of a deceased friend because, as she said, "Death is part of life and you have to get used to it."  I was about five or six when she began to take me and I was never fazed because it was at the funeral parlour, not in someone's home.  

Tonight, I went to a real Irish wake.

When we first moved to Calgary, we met and were be-friended by a wonderful couple, Patrick and Maureen Doherty.  We knew no one and they had us to their magnificent home in Bragg Creek many times.  Devout Catholics with a large, extended family, they often had special Masses said in their home, with grand receptions following.  The booze and food flowed, priests were everywhere.  It was very special.

Sadly, Paddy died last week.  True to form, Maureen had an elaborate wake for him in their home.  "Dad's to the left," said his daughter Sibbohan, when she opened the door, "Mum's in the dining room on the right."  Taken aback, I momentarily thought, Paddy's alive?  But, of course, when we turned left and entered one of the front rooms, there Paddy was laid out magnificently.  We went in to see him beautifully dressed, surrounded by flowers and holding a rosary with a beatific look on his aged face.

The house was buzzing with hundreds of people all milling and thronging, partaking of the marvelous food and drink and thoroughly enjoying talking and laughing about their relationships with Paddy over many years.  We joined in.

What a wonderful way to wake a beloved man, in his own home, surrounded by family and friends.  "He was taken to the hospital last week because he couldn't breathe," said his widow, "but he didn't want to stay, so he pulled all the tubes and catheters out and I picked him up and took him home.  That night, we went to bed and he just drifted quietly away beside me.  It was perfect."

So it was.  That's the way to go.  And what an experience, an old-fashioned, traditional Irish wake with the deceased front and centre.