There is a period between the death of a loved one and the funeral service in which time seems to stand still. Although it is only a few days, it is a stretch in which family members make all of the necessary arrangements, experience wave upon wave of emotion, lie to themselves (and everyone else) by claiming to be doing better than they really are, and try to come to grips with their “new normal.”
Make no mistake; nothing feels normal about it.
In the Jewish community, this period of time is called Aninut. It acknowledges the fact that the mourner is in a state of disarray and frees them from any social obligations and duties of everyday life. The Irish call the same period of time a “wake” and commence to party. Buddhists, who do not believe that the soul immediately leaves the body, say chants over the corpse in hopes of guiding one’s spirit into their next life. (This ritual varies depending on denomination.) And Islamists do not engage in this ritual at all, preferring to bury their dead as soon as possible and get on with the business of living.
Personally, I like the term “bereavement.” After all, when you lose someone, you never really get over it. If it is a parent, a grandparent, sibling, spouse, dear friend or – God forbid – a child, you will mourn them off and on and in different ways for the rest of your life. You will stop crying. You will mend your broken heart and you will learn to laugh again, but the grief is always with you. However, that initial period is so raw and hollow that it requires a word that reflects the emptiness we feel inside. Hence, bereavement.
It’s a feeling that I tend to experience every Holy Saturday. Over the course of Holy Week, we painstakingly recount the events leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion that it almost feels like we’ve been keeping vigil in a hospice suite waiting for the end to come. If I am being honest, there is a part of me that cannot wait for Good Friday to be over and yet, I know each moment of Holy Week is so special and so precious that I don’t want it to slip away too quickly. After all, when the clock strikes three, it’s done. Jesus is dead and it will be an excruciatingly painful 33 hours before I am permitted to celebrate. (Note: I just realized that Jesus was 33 when He died. How’s that for a coincidence?)
And yet, I try to go through the motions, even though everything feels “off” inside. I often joke that if God ever wanted to take a day off, I just know He would pick Holy Saturday. It’s a strange day anyway and the only thing that could make it worse in my book is if God took some personal time.
When Holy Saturday occurs in April, I run the risk of it falling on the anniversary of my father’s death, which is April 21. This year, that fateful day happens to be Easter Sunday, which means that Holy Saturday falls on the 20th…my wedding anniversary. Looks like my family will be treated to an emotional rollercoaster ride over the holiday weekend without the benefit of an amusement park. Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor?
But that’s what bereavement is, isn’t it? A strange period of functional inactivity that wears you out physically, emotionally and spiritually no matter how much faith you have. It’s a period of time in which our hearts have been reduced to kindling and all we can do is sit in silent shock as we assess what has been lost, the memories that we still have and hope that eventually, we will rebuild.
I suspect it is the same feeling that the followers of Jesus felt on this day of their aninut over two thousand years ago. The embodiment of everything they believed in was destroyed and they were devastated. The cross was empty and the faith-filled fire that was inside of them was extinguished. They were lost. They were afraid. Their emotions were in disarray and they were enveloped by a hideous darkness. They were bereft.
But when the smoke clears, they will see that the cross, which once represented death, now represents eternal life. Today they walk in darkness, but tomorrow, they will see the Light. And thankfully, so will we.
I wish you all a very Happy Easter…Notre-Dame de Paris prie pour nous.
Today’s readings for Mass: GN 1:1-2:2 or GN 1:1, 26-31A; PS 104: 1-2, 5-6, 10, 12, 13-14, 24, 35 or PS 33:4-5, 6-7, 12-13, 20 and 22; GN 22: 1-18 or GN 22: 1-2, 9A, 10-13, 15-18; PS 16: 5, 8, 9-10, 11; EX 14:15-15:1; EX 15: 1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 17-18; IS 54: 5-14; PS 30: 2, 4, 5-6, 11-12, 13; IS 55: 1-11; IS 12:2-3, 4-5-6; BAR 3:9-15, 32C 4:4; PS 19:8,9,10,11; EZ 36: 16-17A, 18-28; PS 42: 3, 5, 43: 3,4 or IS 12:2-3, 4BCD, 5-6 or PS 51: 12-13, 14-15, 18-19; ROM 6: 3-11; LK 24: 1-12
