As my dear old aunt, who had been suffering for well over a year lay there for all to see; I wondered just how much of the spectacle was in memory of her and how much was so the neighbours wouldn’t talk. I could go down the road of criticism towards my cousins for lack of time spent with my aunt, but as they could easily retaliate with the fact that I’d only travelled the 300 km to see her twice in one year, I’ll shut up on the subject and jab my finger at the institution that so many believe in.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting and desperately trying not to stare at the body, the priest finally arrived. His first words of compassion were:“I just received a phone call from someone needing their last rites, so I need to hurry this up”
I audibly gasped and hurriedly searched for equal looks of disgust on people’s faces. The only one I found was my father’s and it was more a roll-of-the-eyes look than anything else. The priest proceeded to speed through the mass, not even allowing people to say their lines. I’m the first to admit that I can’t actually remember the last time where I sat through a mass of any sorts, but I do remember the numb butt feeling after a Sunday Mass. The whole thing, including the burial, was done in 25 minutes. It was almost a “blink and you miss it” moment.
In these 25 minutes, I refused to give up and kept searching the faces for the slightest sign of outrage and again came up with nothing. Well, yet again apart from my dad rolling his eyes while pretending to know what to say. It was during one of those desperate pursuits that I realized just how powerful religion was. It held such a strong grip on these people that it overrode any indignation they might have had. They were so enthralled in their beliefs they failed to see that a mere man was the one before them. And it was this man who was disrespecting their faith and in turn my aunt (and whoever was dying). This man’s actions disregarded my aunt’s many years of belief in this particular religion, his hastiness swept aside any consideration for the mourners – who had only had a day to begin to process the death, this is after all Portugal – and his abruptness belittled any meaning the ceremony could have had. Surely the best thing to have done was to deliver the last rites to the poor person who was dying and just delay the funeral – it’s not like my aunt was going anywhere now is it?! Or maybe I’ve just grown too cynical towards the men and women of the cloth who carry themselves as righteous and superior yet are of flesh and bone like the rest of us… Either way, what happened shouldn’t have.
RIP Ana Conceição
