Friends,
There's something awkward about wakes and funerals. The strange combination of sadness and ritual, combined with the gathering of an eclectic mix of people make appropriate behavior a challenge. Family, friends and complete strangers you probably should recognize come together to pay their respects. The air is filled with a blend of silence, uncomfortable whispers and the occasional inappropriate laugh -- after all, the best gossip and jokes are overheard at the wake. While we'll all miss the deceased, it's hard to gauge the pain the closest relatives are in, so appropriateness is a moving target. Contributing to the unease is the fact none of those attending has actually ever been dead -- that would be weird. It's odd that one of the few common experiences we will all eventually share, is so inscrutable. For now the inevitable conclusion to our own lives feels like a distant shadow, something you know to be true but struggle to accept. So you make small talk and give your condolences to everyone -- especially that tearful stranger, just to be safe. Then you head to the kitchen for a coffee and some roscas (crunchy ring-shaped pastries whose passing resemblance to a malnourished donut triggers yet another inappropriate smile).
There's something awkward about wakes and funerals. The strange combination of sadness and ritual, combined with the gathering of an eclectic mix of people make appropriate behavior a challenge. Family, friends and complete strangers you probably should recognize come together to pay their respects. The air is filled with a blend of silence, uncomfortable whispers and the occasional inappropriate laugh -- after all, the best gossip and jokes are overheard at the wake. While we'll all miss the deceased, it's hard to gauge the pain the closest relatives are in, so appropriateness is a moving target. Contributing to the unease is the fact none of those attending has actually ever been dead -- that would be weird. It's odd that one of the few common experiences we will all eventually share, is so inscrutable. For now the inevitable conclusion to our own lives feels like a distant shadow, something you know to be true but struggle to accept. So you make small talk and give your condolences to everyone -- especially that tearful stranger, just to be safe. Then you head to the kitchen for a coffee and some roscas (crunchy ring-shaped pastries whose passing resemblance to a malnourished donut triggers yet another inappropriate smile).
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