Mac’s Wake

The thought of entertaining people at my house after the funerals exhausted me, everything was decidedly blurry and I wanted time alone with mom and my children.  However, the wake was something that was expected of me, something I had to do for Mac as well as the many people who had made an effort to pay their respects, and with this in mind I had organized food and drink for the occasion. I simply ordered huge quantities of cold cuts and imported cheeses, and arranged them on platters along with pickles and fresh bread. This would have to suffice, I didn’t have the time nor the energy to prepare anything more elaborate, and I knew friends would arrive with offerings of food.

Our house at Belmont was large, and it was soon overflowing with people. Mac’s relatives from overseas, my relatives from Canada, friends from the mainland who were overnighting plus Mac’s numerous Bequia friends filled the rooms and porches, making me glad I had ordered so much food! A house that death had hushed came alive with the bustle and laughter of life, sounds that had been missing for several days, and my spirits began to lift as the evening progressed. Son Mitchell and Richard Joachim arrived, lugging a crate filled with bottles of alcohol between them, and as the drinks had been disappearing at an alarming rate I was grateful for the fresh supply.

A natural separation gradually took place; Mac’s relatives along with the older generation sat on the porch off the dining room, the only porch with comfortable chairs. Mac’s friends sat on the porch off the living room, it lacked chairs but no-one seemed to mind. Once in a while I got a whiff of marijuana from those who had ventured into the garden for a discrete toke.  The children had gravitated upstairs with their friends, and when I checked on them I was relieved to hear giggles. The giggles were music to my ears, my children hadn’t laughed aloud for quite some time. They had been far too quiet since my return to Bequia, and the sounds of laughter coming from the bedroom gladdened my heart.

I was sitting with Mac’s friends on the middle porch, getting up once in a while to replenish the cold-cuts and cheeses laid out on the dining room table. As the alcohol consumption continued the noise level rose, and I suddenly realized that people were having a good time, at least those on the middle porch were! They were reminiscing about Mac, and one funny story after another was told amidst howls of laughter. I found myself laughing too; there WERE funny stories to be had, and remembering Mac in this fashion seemed the right thing to do now that he had been laid to rest.

The occupants of porch #1 remained solemn, and the laughter emanating from porch #2 appeared to offend them. Sensing their disapproval I decided to share a funny story about my father with them, a story that had everyone laughing in short order, and soon they were sharing stories of their own. My mother shot me a grateful look, she had been playing “hostess” on that porch, an uphill task until the ice had been broken with a good laugh.

Tomorrow would be another day. I had to tackle the running of the Pizzeria without Mac, and begin raising Vanessa and Rachel on my own. That night?  That night was a chance to say good-bye, surrounded by friends sharing sweet memories, and it infused me with some much-needed strength to carry on.  I had always found the expression, “Life goes on” rather trite, but realized it was true, life DOES go on, and what you make of it is up to you!