moonriver posted on Jul 12, 2008
| views: 886
In the past months, our clan has had to deal face-to-face with dying and death.
So far, I’ve kept most of the details to myself. But there comes a time when I absolutely need to write it down and share it with the rest of the world (whether as private email or as public blog). Until I do, I can no longer write or talk sensibly about anything else.
You know the feeling. It’s like being in a funeral wake and procession. Until you finally bury your loved one, everything else has to stop for a while. Everything else has to give way to the wake rituals, the slowly-moving caisson march, until the last sod is tamped on the grave. Then everyone can move on.
In like manner, I have to finally post this long-delayed blog and share it with you, so that after this, I can move on with the rest of my blogging life.
Among my first cousins, two senior members – a much-loved town mayor and a well-known corporate lawyer – have both been suffering from advanced-stage cancers with poor prognosis for recovery. On our own side, my mother and her older sister, in their 90’s, have both been suffering from various geriatric ailments, which later led to Mama being hospitalized in critical condition for pneumonia.
In the past month, members of our clan were in near-constant contact with each other – through cell phones, emails, and online chat, as well as face-to-face meetings and impromptu reunions in the hospitals where our loved ones were confined.
It helped that we have doctor-relatives who helped us make the difficult decisions – MICU conditions, stronger drug cocktails, central-line IV’s, tracheostomy, blood transfusions, private-duty nurses, DNR instructions, and worst of all, the ultimate option of “pulling the plug.” (We didn’t exercise it.)
We were like a board of directors holding a marathon teleconference to weigh the pros and cons of every medical option, to open the issues for discussion and put them to a vote, and thus arrive at the most crucial decisions as a corporate body. Our online group chats spanned continents and cosmopolitan cities, from St. Louis to Boston to London to Singapore. We were coolness-under-fire personified.
Two weeks ago, Mama and our cousin (the mayor) both expired peacefully, within a few days of each other. Most of our close kin were there, milling around the two hospital beds in their respective cities, to bid our loved ones goodbye.
The deaths were long expected. A few tears were shed, but most of us spent the moments in silent grief, each one of us left to their own deepmost, unexpressed thoughts.
The clan held two wakes hundreds of kilometers apart, and quietly buried our two kin one day after the other. Then we checked our calendars, rebooked our return-trip tickets, and held an impromptu clan reunion, with overflowing food, drink, and – get this – boisterous laughter and music.
Some of us said, “They were good deaths. Two down, two more to go.” We aren’t satisfied. We will hold a grander reunion a month from now.
You may view our clan with horror and outrage for being so cavalier about death.
But please be kind to us. As they say, there is method behind the madness. There is history behind the habit. Dylan Thomas’ famous poem imparts a deep meaning for our clan. For us, truly, death shall have no dominion.
There is a common trait that runs through the several extended families that comprise our clan – bound by two paternal lineages and marriage ties, and validated by strong customary laws. This trait probably sets us apart from the average middle-class clan with rural Asia-Pacific roots.
And it is this: most of our members grew up to be stoic and nonchalant in the face of danger and death.
It isn’t that stoicism is a trait unique to our clan, no. Definitely not. Countless other people in other clans, communities and countries display the same stone-faced impassivity when loved ones die or fall into extreme danger. But there are those who go beyond simple stoicism and into black comedy, where they can so easily joke and shrug about their own tragic situation, even in the face of imminent or recent death.
Our clan is one such example.
I haven’t researched deeply enough into our clan history, to know for sure wherefore arose this stoicism with a comic streak. But I see three distinct factors.
First of all, our clan originated from two adjacent territories ruled by warlords and with strong warrior cultures, where the males of every family were expected to be familiar with and able to wield guns and long blades, handle horses over rough-and-tumble terrain.
I remember having learned to ride a hill pony to a gallop and to wield a long blade during a summer when I was 10 years (although as kids we were forbidden to handle guns). We loved hill horses and long blades.
It also greatly helped bind our clan, across both patrilineal and matrilineal boundaries, that the base of its membership was a large cohort of male siblings and cousins, plus a core of extra-ordinarily strong women who could stand on their own. (My mother was one example.)
The core of this clan (my father, his only brother, and their first cousins, together with their wives) later became urban professionals. But living like aliens in hostile and chaotic post-war cities, they closed ranks and fiercely protected one another, like members of a benevolent Italian mafia or a Chinese secret society, and kept close ties with their ethnic roots and warrior traditions.
I remember, as kids living with older cousins in a newly-urbanized neighborhood reminiscent of the wild West, that we were always a formidable force to contend with. We didn’t join street gangs and we didn’t start fights. But we were not easy to bully, and we always fought back. Blood and gore and surgical stitches were no stranger to our generation. (I was an exception, the wimp who ran away from fights and who fainted at the sight of blood. Lol.)
In our feudal macho culture, both men and women were expected to “grin and bear it.” Emotions like grief and sadness were allowed only in tightly structured ritual form, like the ululation and practiced wailing of old women, or the wide array of Catholic prayers (also led by the old women). There was definitely no place for uncontrolled hysterics. Clan funerals were like schools that we kids were required to attend, where we learned to deal with death as just another ritualized milestone, like a baptism or school graduation or wedding.
There’s a second factor – and here lies the irony, I think. By turning mostly into urban professionals (doctors, lawyers, politicians, priests, businessmen, and journalists) with a strong intellectual-artistic bent and a stake in the status quo, our clan had basically escaped the real-life dangers of a warlord-warrior society to become solid citizens.
We sublimated the warrior’s stoicism, and acquired an overlay of the urbanite’s easy-going, fun-loving streak where business was mixed with pleasure. I think this is where the comic streak comes in, although I’m not really sure it explains a lot.
I remember that Papa always made it a point to bring us kids to hospitals or other homes to visit ailing (or dying) kin, and to attend their funerals even if it was hundreds of kilometers away. Each wake and funeral was a clan reunion, a freak party where quiet grief mixed with feasting and laughter. There, we got to strengthen kin ties amidst talk about personal professions, family business, and our clan’s top favorite pastime – politics.
And here, on the matter of politics, enters the third factor. Like I’ve mentioned in my past blogs and comments, our clan fell victim to the iron fists of the military regime and its warlord allies that ruled the country and our home territory.
Our first cousins’ houses were shot up several times by a local warlord’s army because they dared to resist his rule. Mama, in her frail mid-50’s, had her share of staring eye-to-eye with another warlord’s armed goons and bulldozer crews because she and a handful others refused to leave their ancestral farms to give way to a big timber firm.
Several clan members and their spouses became rebels and activists, and fought underground for many years against the dictatorship. Several of us were captured, tortured and imprisoned. Some of our properties were confiscated or plundered, and never returned. But we stood steadfast throughout the dark period.
That period is past now, even if the class inequities and institutionalized violence continue to feed social unrest. But the years of resistance left its imprint on us. In a real sense, our clan learned to eat death threats for breakfast and to bury dead comrades before supper – without flinching, and always with an eye for black humor.
Our elders went on to live long fruitful lives, raise big families, and somehow recoup lost opportunities. We the younger generation intend to do the same.
Mama is gone now. Her older sister is barely holding on. When our cousin the mayor died, the other cancer-stricken relative said simply, “I’m next.” But we assure each other, “A tree dies, a tree is born, the forest lives forever.”
Our clan reunions are like victory parties. We pay homage to our dead, then we joke about them, their secret dalliances and eccentricities. We update our expanding family tree, with marriages and births (and adoptions) far outnumbering deaths. We exchange email addresses, blog URL’s and cell numbers. Then we set the next rambunctious reunion, haggling endlessly about dates and locations.
That’s us, the clan of immortals. The clan of hill horses and long blades. We bury our dead and then move on. And death shall have no dominion.
Comments
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quietone said on Jul 12, 2008....
crap, why do I always have to be the first one to comment!! I love this blog moon.. it is filled with such love and family ties. I think the way your clan "celebrate" death is a tribute to the ones that are now gone to a better place. I also believe that death should have no dominion! You know in your heart that your mom and your cousin lived a long full life and what more could one ask for. I do pause however, and share a moment of silence for the loss of your loved ones. They will always live on in your heart and the stories you tell. {{hugs}} -
polarheart said on Jul 12, 2008....
Moon, you make me swoon, even with a topic of death and illness. I agree with Quietone's words, I can sense the love and family ties. . .what a priviledge! I am sorry for the loss of your mom specifically, because I know what it is to lose a mother, that special person who bore you and knew you from the very moment of conception. Thank you for sharing these precious memories and times with us.Love and blessingsPolar x -
fearing said on Jul 12, 2008....
Moon, I'm very sorry about the passing of your mother and your cousin. I'm glad you shared it with us so we could gather close around you with love and friendship.
I have often wondered about your life, the circumstances, your family. You give us glimpses but this post told much more. Be happy I'm not sitting with you as I would pester you with a hundred other questions and wanting every little detail about your life growing up. You would tire of me quickly. ;-)
Hugs Moon.
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queenparanoia said on Jul 12, 2008....
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{HUG}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}i know i'm young and i dont much about life or death. (i'm still scared of eath) but i'm honest about it... i know your mother would have love it by givng her a great memory through this post... can we move on moon? can we move on when we no longer hold them physically? i know someday i would get used to it... death that is... but for now i understand what you feel... condolences to your family... -
secretlife said on Jul 12, 2008....
moonriver: i'm so sorry to read about the passing of your mother.this was a beautiful post dedicated to the type of love which transcends everything- really it does.even death. -
skald said on Jul 12, 2008....
I am sorry about your mum and your cousin and I am sorry that there are two others going soon too. I do believe that your mum had a good life and I know you will always have her in your heart, just like I have my dad and and my grandparents. They are always here, in my heart. -
the_infernal_optimist said on Jul 12, 2008....
I hope you found this cathartic in some way, moon. It's a beautiful tapestry from a master storyweaver. I see a lot of my family, though our backgrounds have been vastly different, in the faces you depict here. The love and laughter, the celebrations of life watered by grief and death...your family never loses sight of the cycle, the wheel as it turns. It's just amazing to read about.
~Infernal
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CreativeWoman said on Jul 12, 2008....
Moon,
I am so sorry to hear of the loss of your mother and your other loved one.
Your family sounds very courageous. Celebrating life through laughter is never a bad thing, in my humble opinion. It honors them and It helps us to move on from the sadness we experience from their passing. We have to move forward, but the joy of their memories lives on in our hearts.
I can see why you have such pride in your family.
My deepest sympathies.
CW
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NightShadowGirl said on Jul 12, 2008....
Moon,
I can relate heavily with "..most of our members grew up to be stoic and nonchalant in the face of danger and death." My family is the exact same way. The day my mother died, we cried and were sad, but our way of coping is not letting it get to us. So we went home, ordered pizza and played a game and laughed. Those moments help me cope, sounds like you and your family are the same way. Which is great, I wouldnt have it any other way for us. It means we dont have those depressed moments that many others have. I related very well with your post. Thank you!
I am sorry for your losses though. Very sorry. Even though people shrug it off, it still leaves a sting to it. But as you said, death has no dominion!
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NewdayNewme said on Jul 12, 2008....
Your clan gets it....why be afraid of the inevitable? Why give death the upper hand when there is so much to be celebrated? We should celebrate our loved ones, celebrate their lives, the lessons they taught us and will continue teaching us even after their passing.When loved ones pass, it feels like everything stands still....but as you said, we've got to move on, because death has no dominion. We too shall pass....why spend our lives being afraid of it when that energy could be channelled to living our lives to the fullest?We are a combination of our ancestors, and our future generations. To think that all that revolves around us. We truly are wonderfully and fearfully made. We are....amazing....every one of us. -
Lucytorial said on Jul 12, 2008....
In death moon there is always life and immortality, it resides in each of us. The tenacity to not allow death to be a moribund experience ensures that the wealth and integrity of the person never dies, it is simply passed on, strengthened in its resilience.
Although I do feel that in personal moments certain deaths can bring us to the brink, the very edge of un natural thoughts for orselves. It is these small deaths (I'm sure there is a more apt word) that kill the spirit if we aren't aware... you are very lucky moon to have such a strong and loving family, the honesty with which you face life (and death) shows great respect and love for not only the clan but life itself. hugs to you moon.
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gingersoul said on Jul 12, 2008....
"A tree dies, a tree is born, the forest lives forever.”
Moon....in these words there is all the history of your family, as well as your community and your country.
You made a comparison that immediately came up to my mind while i was reading...the tight resemble with the Italian Mafia families where members learn to stoically face any sort of difficulties generated by the nature of their choices. Ancestral ties had developed with the years in technological knowledge that have anchored these families even tighter.
Your clan reminds me of a Mafia clan and naturally you know well enough to understand that the comparison i make ends where the Mafia clan shape themselves as outlaw and criminal while your clan has been hardly punished to oppose a dictatorial regime.
Beside this, your clan reminds of a Sicilian family.
Identical is also the Catholic use of the grieving rituals, the old women singing litanie and the black dressed people following the casket....as well as the food shared between tears and glasses of wine.
Your strength is in your roots, Moon. In this you are lucky of grieving sorrounded by such iron clad , ferociously protective and stoic clan.. so that can you smile and say:
"A tree dies, a tree is born, the forest lives forever.”
Its the solitude in front of the death that makes her so much more horrible...in this way life itself is celebrated and compassionately defended and her values and morals passed on to the new generations.
Even though the memories and pain of your personal grief are something that will always belong only to you, my dear friend, you are not alone.
And this gives me a little of comfort.....{hugs}
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monkeyboyx said on Jul 12, 2008....
Your mother lives in our hearts.You are great! -
CayenneMan said on Jul 13, 2008....
moonriver I'm very sorry for your loss, our deepest sympathies go out to your family from all of us. In all of our lives lives a tale of life and death sadness and hapiness regardless of how we have become what we are now and what we will be, we have to remember we got here by continuing to walk on the stepping stones that were placed in front of us by our ancesters own given pathways which have led us through many dominions. Good or bad it is part of what has influenced much of what we are today. I for one appreciate this post that you have presented us with. It takes alot of character to reach inside and pull out our intermost feelings and put them into words of expression. Through the words you have chosen to right I feel I know you as a brother much more than just a friend. When we ourselves pass by our final day here on this earth. We all will once again be together in a better place of hapiness and beauty regardless of what pathways led us there.
And yes I like many others have said in the past . . . when I see your user name in print the song begins to play . . .
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husbandhater said on Jul 13, 2008....
Moon your clan sounds Irish which celebrates the life not the passing. I love that. Sorry about your family members as you have my deepest sympathies. I agree with NewDNewM. He or she is right that your clan gets it. And I have the highest respect for that. I hope mines shares the same sentiment when it's my time to face Mr.Reaper. -
brit said on Jul 13, 2008....
I really enjoyed reading this asian fire monkey. You're talented with words. :-) Whoops! Double comment..and it's too late to stop it. LOL -
moonriver said on Jul 13, 2008....
hi everyone, just a quick fly-by to let you know i've read all your incredibly heart-warming comments. it's monday morning where i am, it will be an incredibly busy day for me, but i'll be thinking about your kind words. my individual replies tonight...
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TinSoldier said on Jul 13, 2008....
I was gonna write a long response, and then I remembered that this is your blog, not mine.
Let's just say that I think that modern mankind doesn't have the same grasp on the details of death that our ancestors did.
And I'm sorry to hear about your mother and your aunt. Is it the same aunt who you have blogged about before? Or a different one?
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silverwhisper said on Jul 14, 2008....
moon, first my condolences on the passings of your aunt & your mother. i remember blog entries you've posted about your mother--like TS, am unsure if you've mentioned this aunt previously although i fear it was she. my deepest condolences on their passing, and my sympathies that you are already bracing for more.
but secondly: how could we judge you for how you handle such events? no: i think you are absolutely right about how your family has come to view death, why you view it as you do. your way is the way of people who have seen much, hurt much, bled much.
in your words there is a strength and resilience; a steel whichm having been tempered and quenched in hardship, can stand up to the heaviest burdens.
and within your words, there is courage. this is the living, breathing heart of the man we know as moonriver.
ed -
aviatorx said on Jul 14, 2008....
Firstly, I'm sorry about both your mother and aunt's passing. The way you described your family rituals and customs was just stunning. I loved all the layers and history you wove into the overall picture. Reading everyone else's comments I've noticed that everyone seems to have similar viewpoints from their various cultures. Being both Irish and Italian, I have experienced the same sort of mourning mixed with celebration - however, my relatives who are direct immigrants or were born there always seem to have perfected the art of embracing it.
So overall, I've been wondering if this fear of death that many people feel is the result of America (in my case) not having a strong national identity. We have no rituals, customs, or habits that promote acceptance. Death is viewed mainly as a burden, a disaster. Just a thought.
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thunderpussy said on Jul 14, 2008....
I'm here for you as always -
moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
quietone -- Yes, the knowledge that my mother and my cousin lived full lives is more than enough comfort for us. Last year, I wrote a longish blog that paid homage to my mother for her 90th birthday. Maybe I should write a sort of epilogue. Later...
This particular cousin of mine -- let's call him Cousin Ben (it's near enough his real name anyway) lived a very rich and colorful life (and to think that he remained poor despite his long years as mayor). It would probably take me a long time before I can have the guts to write down about him.
Thank you for your moment of silence, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
polar -- I talk about death, and I still make you swoon? Wow, I don't know if that speaks a lot about me, or speaks a lot about you. Lol. Let me guess: it was my references to hill horses and long blades. It made me swoon too, to be honest with you... :-)
If you have read my blog about my mother last year (see the link in my reply to quietone's comment), you will notice that she wasn't very demonstrative of her affection for us -- she wasn't too much into hugging and kissing us as kids, and she was often away on business. But yes, we feel her loss in a much more profound way.
Thank you for your love and blessings, my friend. -
moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
fearing -- Actually, part of my reluctance in blogging about this event is that, for readers to really understand it, I will have to reveal a lot more about my background than I have done in the past.
For quite some time already, I've been tempted (perhaps by my fierce pride in my roots) to reveal so much, that it would have taken just a few google searches on well-selected keywords to pin down not just my nationality, but probably even my exact ethnic origin and family name. Luckily, I'm kept my vow of silence more or less intact haha.
Ah, but I'd love for you to sit here by my side all day long to pester me with a hundred questions. If there's one thing my closest friends know about me, it's that I'm tireless. In replying to questions, telling stories, and listening to others tell their stories... among other things. I definitely won't tire of you. *wink*
Thanks for your hugs of love and friendship, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
queenie -- Yes, definitely, we can move on (we MUST move on) after the death of a loved one, especially one so close to us as to have been a big part of our life, like our parents.
You're young, and your fears about death are understandable. These fears never really go away. We just learn to control them. We keep them in the far corners of our minds, instead of putting ourselves to cower in that corner.
And when the time comes that we are forced to face them upfront, we realize that we do overcome our fears by confronting them, by staring at them, by searching (and finding) meaning in them.
I have a few funny anecdotes about funeral wakes, but these are for later...
Thank you for your hugs of condolence, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
secret -- Having followed your past blogs about you and your sister, I know that these thoughts and feelings (of steeling ourselves for the inevitable) are not far from your mind always.
I remember the last night I saw my mother alive in the hospital. It was in a distant city, and I had to go back to my own city the next morning for a few days, to catch up on urgent matters. We all felt she was going (she was in a stupor, unresponsive to stimuli, but not yet in coma), and I vowed to return as soon as I can. But in my mind, I knew it would be the last time I'd see her alive.
So, that night, I sat there beside her, keeping watch, not sleeping a wink, reading a book or glancing at the TV program or chatting with the night nurse to keep myself awake. I talked to her about old times (in her native language), stroked her white hair, massaged her arms and hands (to help ease the edema), played some music that she loved in her younger days...
That night, I had begun to wrestle with my grief.
When morning came and I had to go (the dayshift nurse and another relative had arrived to relieve me and the night nurse), I kissed her forehead, whispered into her ear, "Mama, I'm going now. If you go away before I return, I know we will see each other again somewhere, sometime. I love you," and clasped her hands tightly in mine.
That moment that I closed the door to her hospital room behind me, all grief had left me. I had said my goodbyes to her, and my heart felt light.
She passed away four days later, while I was getting ready to travel back to her city. I felt only passing sorrow. On the bus, I was mostly smiling, recalling so much happy times with her and Papa.
Thank you for your comforting words, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
skald -- I recall that when I posted my blog paying homage to my father last year, about his mustache and turntable and whatnot, you wrote the very first comment, and I promised you that my next blog would be a tribute to my mother. I immediately sensed your closeness to your own mother, as well as to your father and grandparents who had already passed away.
You are right, my friend. They will always stay here, in our hearts and memories.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
infernal -- You are so right about great cycles, turning wheels, and catharsis. As always, your poetic comment warms my heart.
Even within a single culture, families will be more or less different from each other, but always, we can find the least common denominator -- that which makes us human, that which bind us as family. I enjoy it a lot too, when you write about your own family of origin in your blogs.
We know that societies are rent asunder by social conflicts, and some families break up in the worst ways imaginable. But always, at that moment when someone crosses that line to the infinite beyond, the people that their past life touched will pause, tro to recall mostly the good times, and let their smiles shine through the sense of loss.
Thank you for you own beautiful addition to the tapestry, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
cw -- I hope that my having described our clan in this manner didn't have the effect of putting it up on a pedestal, romanticizing it as some sort of epic character. We are actually a very ordinary cluster of families, trying to cope with the daily business of living like other families. While we are lucky in some respects, we are probably jinxed and flawed in other respects. (I will try to blog about the family jinxes later.)
Get this: When my sister posted the photos online from the two recent funerals (those of Mama and my cousin), friends pointed out that most of the faces in the group shots were smiling at the camera. The video cam footages actually recorded laughter. How weird is that? We didn't think it was weird. We're used to it.
Yes, our laughter amidst grief and adversity is one of our clan's best-wielded weapons.
Thank you for your sympathies, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
nightshadow -- I'm glad to know that my clan isn't unique in this respect. Yes, laughter is a universally human way of coping. I'm glad you see it that way too.
In many cultures, it's seen as improper or even uncivilized for certain situations. And surely there are such extreme moments of sadness (or anger, for that matter), when we have no choice but to discharge our emotions through other means -- crying, screaming, some violent behavior... but at the end, it is laughter that finalizes the process of discharge. It is laughter that gives closure. It is laughter that recharges us.
I can imagine the pain you must have experienced in losing your mom at a young age. But you also wrote in your blog how you overcome this loss. I see you as a strong girl growing up with the support of a strong family.
Thank you for your kind words, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
newday -- I'm so glad you get it, too.
I'm sure that each culture, each community, each family has its own ways of coping with death, whether the fear or the actuality of it, and helping in the bereavement process.
Some tend to stretch the process so lengthily and so excruciatingly -- whether as community custom or as a personal state of mind -- which is usually a sign of a much bigger insecurity, a fear of change, an unwillingness to move on. But, ultimately, everyone moves on.
Others, like in the Islamic and earlier nomadic traditions, the process is intense but short. This isn't necessarily morally superior or socially more adaptive. In many cases, it merely signifies a strong social or personal pressure to quickly move on with the mundane business of living.
So there's this wide spectrum of adaptive behavior. Where does my clan belong? How should I know... ? I'm rambling. I need to stop right here. Lol. I always tend to turn this blog into a sociological case study.
Thanks for the kind words.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
lucy -- You write wisely. Yes, most of the time I feel such great fortune and pride to belong to this clan I've described in (hopefully not too much) romanticist terms. But sometimes, I get this worried feeling that maybe the exposure to so many deaths and personal dangers has benumbed us (our culture? just my clan? or maybe just me?) so much that we can no longer grieve like normal people...?
This self-critical thought sometimes crosses my mind. But the comments in this blog reassures me that we're alright. It's just that we have so much great respect for life, we celebrate it with so much fun, that when death comes knocking on the door, we tend to invite it in like a friend to join in the partying.
Thank you for the hugs and kind words, my friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
ginger -- This may seem funny to others, but honestly, I feel greatly honored by your having compared my clan to a Sicilian family or to a Mafia clan (in the original sense of mafioso, not criminale). Move aside, Michael Corleone. Lol.
However ... and of course you know this already... that when I visited this genealogical resource site and inputted my family name in the cognome box, the results show most of the people carrying this name to be concentrated in the northern parts (Milano and Venezia), and only a sprinkling in the southern parts (Campania). So there. I would have loved to get proof that our clan has Sicilian roots, but there's absolutely no evidence of that, and the FBI can't prove anything in court. Lol.
I do see the tight parallelisms with Sicily and the south, all the way to the obsession with guns, familiarity with outlaw life, old women doing litanies while at the same time making sure that food and drink accompanies the grief rituals. The old women did wear black, from veils down to clunky peasant shoes, but the younger generation now tends to assert the Chinese side of our ancestry by wearing white instead.
I'm so glad that, among the many excellent comments, you were the one who reiterated (twice, and in huge bold fonts too...lol) what I think to be the underlying philosophy of our clan. Truly, a tree dies, a tree is born, the forest lives forever. It's not just a nice ecological slogan, but life's basic mechanism at work ... the very reason why death shall have no dominion over us.
Your words and hugs are always a soothing balm to me, my friend. Buonanotte.
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moonriver said on Jul 14, 2008....
whew. 8 more to go. but i love doing this. be back after an hour, folks... :-)
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moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
monkeyboy -- At the end of the day, it is our legacy to the living -- the good work that we do, that we are remembered for, the people who fondly remember us -- it is what that which makes us immortal. Thank you for your kind words.
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moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
cayenneman -- Your words are as beautiful and moving as an Indian prayer. I haven't read enough of your blogs to be sure if you are of Native American ancestry, but I will assume it. When I spent some time with a traditional Indian community in upstate NY, our major group activities always began with an Indian prayer.
And I recall one particular prayer that was so poetically said it stuck to my mind until now.
It described people, animals and plants as brothers and sisters. It especially described the succeeding generations of people as holding each other's hands like a giant living cyclical chain, now rising up from the soil to embrace life on the ground, now sinking down beneath the soil to become part of mother earth, and then rising up again for a new round of life, in a never-ending series of waves.
I liked how you phrased it: "We have to remember we got here by continuing to walk on the stepping stones that were placed in front of us by our ancesters own given pathways which have led us through many dominions."
One Indian friend of mine said it in these words: "We walk to the future in the footprints of our ancestors."
Thank you for your words of sympathy, my brother.
-
moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
husbandhater -- As I've explained in my early blogs, my clan has deep Asian roots but also some very distinct strands of strong Western influence. I can understand why you are reminded of the Irish -- the same clannish traditions overlain with Catholic ritual, the same fierce streak of anti-colonial struggles and ethnic pride. I'm glad this post made you think of your own future path.
Thank you for your kind words of sympathy.
-
moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
brit -- I love it when you call me asian fire monkey. Come to think of it, I'd probably ask my loved ones to put this on my epitaph: "Here lies an Asian fire monkey. Heaven refuses monkeys, and hell has enough fire as it is. So here he rests a while, waiting for his next Asian destination." Lol.
Thank you for your kind words, friend.
-
moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
tinman -- The longer the comments, the better I like them. (Even if short ones fascinate me too haha.)
Our ancestors did have deep insights about living and dying that tend to be forgotten just because we now have tremendous knowledge about the purely biological aspects of it. So much we do not know. I don't have religious beliefs. But I believe in souls that transcend individual biological lives.
My aunt (my mother's older sister) is in her mid-90's, still lucid but bed-ridden and increasingly weak. No, she's a different aunt, if you mean the other aunt that I wrote about last March, the one who fell in love with my radio. That other aunt whom I call Soledad here, in her 60's, is a robust peasant woman who can still do a full day's work in the field and in the kitchen. Aunt Soledad attended my mother's burial where she played a funny role. Watch for it in my next blog. Lol.
Thank you for dropping by, my friend.
-
moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
ed -- As always, your words make me soar, and humble me at the same time.
It wasn't either aunt (see my reply to tinsoldier) that died, although I can understand the source of the confusion. It was a first cousin who is about 15 years older than me, and probably lived a much more colorful life than me or my other cousins.
Thank you for your deep insight and your words of sympathy, my friend.
-
moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
aviatorx -- Your ancestral roots are awesome. I can imagine the convergence of Irish and Italian cultures -- both with deep Catholic influence, both fiercely nationalistic and yet ready to assimilate into the wider Western culture. Even the two flags are similar!
But I diverge.
I agree with you. This "cavalier" (stoic blending into comic) attitude towards death probably runs through not just individual families or clans, but represents specific cultural legacies -- perhaps shaped by the specific history of a community or country. Like Ginger said about the south of Italy, and to which you add Ireland, "mourning mixed with celebration" is still widely practiced. This, for example, is a detailed description of the Irish Wake.
To this, I want to add that my own country itself -- perhaps not the whole population but a strong ethnic streak -- is equally if not even more "notorious" for celebratory funeral practices.
My sister told me this just yesterday (via email; I'll try to quote her word-for-word but censor some words here and there):
"We had these visitors at the wake, a couple. The man was Irish; the woman was [our compatriot]. The man said he never attended as many wakes as when he got married to his wife, and none of those he saw in Ireland and in Scotland where he also stayed for many years, were so joyful as they seem to be when held in [our homeland]. He said that one of the shocks he found in [our homeland] was seeing children playing at wakes. Where he grew up, he said, children were never brought to wakes because they were such sad affairs it was thought the experience would traumatize them. He said that he rather liked (that's his phrase) how it was done here."
Thank you for sharing your own thoughts and your words of sympathy, friend.
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moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
thunderpussy -- Thank you for being here, as always. I hope I could also always be there with you when you need me... :-)
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CreativeWoman said on Jul 15, 2008....
moon,
I have never taken anything you have ever written as putting your family on a pedestal. Forgive me if it appeared differently.
CW
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moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
cw -- I know you never did, my friend... :-) You need not apologize. You've always been one of the most balanced and objective writers I've interacted with here at SC. Thanks for your concern... :-)
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Lucytorial said on Jul 15, 2008....
{{psst}} :-/ -
moonriver said on Jul 15, 2008....
lucy -- psst back to you. what are you having for breakfast? i'm still in my girly aprons, cooking ham and eggs for me and my son haha. and more banana fritters hahaha. and peeking at sc for a couple minutes while munching...
-
Lucytorial said on Jul 15, 2008....
Munch away, right now breakfast is a coffee, can't stomach much else right now... but I will try some porriage later. Its raining here, lovely soft, constant, calming rain... yummm I love it when it rains. -
uniquely-ironic said on Jul 18, 2008....
I'm not sure how I missed this. Your blog was simply beautiful!
The strength in your family is incredible. I understand the relief and shared energy that comes with sharing laughter with your kin. The celebration of a life well lived. I'm sorry for your loss, but see that you have a solid family to help you through.
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moonriver said on Jul 20, 2008....
lucy -- Here it stopped raining already. Finally, after weeks of rains, a chance to line-dry my laundry.
uniquely -- Thank you for your kind words. The whole clan remains in grief, though, as we expect two more deaths in the near future. It's a terrible feeling, but like you said, our shared energy helps everyone to cope.
-
moonriver said on Jan 25, 2009....
Well, my friends, it's been a half year since I wrote this blog, and here I am again, reciting the "Death shall have no dominion" mantra.
Six months ago, a clan member said, "Two down, two more to go."
One of the two has just passed away.
The clan is gathered again to bid her farewell.
And then we will move on.
But that's us--the clan of immortals, the clan of hill horses and long blades.
We bury our dead, and then move on.
The Lunar New Year has just arrived in this part of the world.
We shed that part of yesterday that no longer fits, and get ourselves ready to face the challenges of tomorrow.
I posted a blog just now, with a poem retrieved from another Lunar New Year, two years ago.
I hope you read it.
-
TinSoldier said on Jan 25, 2009....
Hiya, Moon. I'll go read that blog soon.I took a hiatus, too, although not for a whole six months. I'm still trying to decide whether to continue the hiatus or not. -
Lucytorial said on Jan 25, 2009....
@ TS, well its nice to see you back again.Moon ~ Its still raining, we're having an wonderful wet season, no line drying here I'm afraid, record rains its wonderful! -
moonriver said on Jan 26, 2009....
hi tin.
thanks for reading my latest.
in my case, it's a day-by-day decision whether to visit sc or not, to post something or not.
i guess real-life concerns made the decisions for me these past months.
whatever you decide, my friend, we have other ways of keeping in touch.
hi lucy.
monsoon madness.
i know the feeling.
four weeks, no sun, everything moist and moldy.
i wouldn't want to be cooped up inside a house during the monsoon rains.
i'll send a bix box of sunshine or a warm campfire to your doorstep, if i could, my friend. via fedex.
-
moonriver said on Aug 03, 2009....
hi everyone.a few days ago, a favorite aunt (my mother's sister) died.she had been bedridden for several months.she has suffered enough, and everyone was ready to bid farewell.in an hour or two, i'll be travelling again to attend her short wake.the funeral will be tomorrow.again, we celebrate the eternal dance of life, in which death is a but a quick faux pas, a mere sidestep.like i explained in this blog, for our clan, death shall have no dominion.there's an acute sense of loss and grieving, yes, but also of ultimate relief and pride for a life lived with fullness and love.i hope this short note suffices. -
gingersoul said on Aug 03, 2009....
Moon....i am sorry to read this.
Again, my friend, no words ....only a hug {{{{hug}}}}.
-
silverwhisper said on Aug 04, 2009....
my deepest condolences, moon. what words i can offer, i did when you first wrote this.
ed -
moonriver said on Aug 04, 2009....
ginger, ed:
thank you for the hugs and condolences.
i'm here at the wake right now.
we're awash with all kinds of sentiments, but the grief is subdued.
clan members are always happy to see each other again.
like i said, the mood is almost celebratory.
and i'm excited to be spending a bit of time with miggy, who's turned into such a telecoms network wizard i can no longer understand half of what he's talking about.
i asked him to teach me some hacking tricks... :-)
man, talking about being digitally connected, this funeral chapel is teh shiz.
webcam, streaming video, your relatives overseas can view the entire proceedings.
i'll probably blog about my aunt later.
Comment on "And death shall have no dominion."
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