My father-in-law, Dick, died one month ago. He was pushing ninety, but he seemed pretty much as healthy and jolly and alive as ever. Until very suddenly, he was not; to the shock to all who knew him. Including his son - my husband - who adored him.
So it was that I found myself with a front-row seat to my first Irish funeral. Also, helping my husband prepare for and get through the experience. And trying to help explain death and coffins and Catholics to our four-year-old son. And thinking more than usual about the finitude of life, and what I value about it.
Then this last weekend, I went to a mushroom ceremony in the Netherlands (that playlist is one of my favourites thus far). Once you’ve choked down a big wad of fresh psilocybin truffles, you never really know what is going to come heaving back up. When I did it last year, I stepped outside of time, and had a very immersive experience of eternity. And I saw how the experiences of our lives might remain in the twisting eternal records of existence even after our bodies expire. It profoundly changed how I think about religion and philosophy, and the purpose of being a person.
This time, I found myself dwelling for many hours on what an absolute gift it is to be alive, and how we owe it to ourselves, each other, and all those who are no longer with us, to do our best to enjoy the ever-loving shit out of life while we are here. It was a really good time. And will lead to many more good times, I have no doubt.
I came home from the Netherlands beaming, and spring was coming into bloom, and I thought I’d use some of the positive energy to start making a playlist around the theme of enjoyment. But I had to set that aside, because this other mix took over: songs about death. Which I would have thought would be a fairly somber set. And certainly, a few of the tracks I considered were dour enough. But it is mainly a string of total bangers that have made the final cut. It turns out there are actually a lot of really lively and lovely songs about death. I’d never noticed that until I started trying to compile songs on the subject. Maybe it’s because to sing about death, you have to be not dead. And so the act of singing about death easily bends itself into a reflection on being alive. And life, for all the mess we make of it, is a gift. That should be celebrated. With vigour and style. Which I believe this mix does.
At the funeral home, a newly-introduced cousin asked if we were coming back for the Month’s Mine. I asked what that was, and learned that some Catholics hold a special mass one month after a person’s death. I Googled it, and as is the case with most of the nicer ideas in Christianity, it seems to have been taken from a much older pagan practice; in this case, a Norse tradition of drinking to the gods and the dead.
And so, as a resolute pagan who can’t hold her liquor for beans (who is married to someone who matches), I mark this moon-measured milestone by offering the only memento mori I’m fit to fashion. It goes like this:
Please join the celebration here, or here: