When my grandparents died I was a kid. My mother told me they moved somewhere up in the sky, dressed me nicely and took me to all their funerals. In my hometown people would rather eat a pigeon than cry in public, so there wasn’t a big fuss while we were at the graveyard. I’m not sure I understood the real meaning of death then, but I acknowledged that it exists and it’s part of everybody’s life.
Yesterday I took a train to join a funeral in Venice today. I never met the person who passed away but he was dearest to one of my best friends.
I went to the mortuary, stood in front of the corpse gently resting inside the coffin, then we all moved to the cemetery.
It’s hard to face people’s pain, it’s embarrassing to cry when surrounded by others, but I can’t think of many other ways to feel so blessed. Each time someone dies you neatly perceive the supernatural vibes of life, anyway that’s not my point. Today I saw so much love and tenderness and affection between family, relatives and friends: I felt lucky to be somehow part of that circle of human beings.
Death is tough, but don’t be afraid to face it when somebody passes away. The gathering, the procession, the ritual are rare moments of mutual commitment. It’s an extraordinary way to say: “I’m with you because I love you” and actually mean it.
Don’t underestimate the power of presence when dealing with death, there’s a lot of positive energy around it.
Guido, che la terra ti sia lieve.