A
Life in a bag ©
By
Michael
Casey
One
of our neighbours died the other day, she was an old lady with white hair, the
kind of nice old lady you see in the street. She used to have meals on wheels,
I could see another nice lady deliver them to her door. I could see the old
lady’s children and grandchildren come and visit. But now she is dead.
I’ve
grown up with death, so I have no fear of it, its another journey, perhaps even
like jumping into a swimming pool, you just have to hold your breath and jump right
in. We had an undertakers at the bottom of our road, and as an altar boy I
served at over 30 funerals, the Funeral Mass is the one with the best reading,
Lazarus and all that. Jesus loved Lazarus so much that he raised him from the
dead, Eternity will be like that for all of us. Well apart from the atheists,
who just won’t believe it, so they’ll stay in some sort of waiting room,
Florida perhaps?
When
somebody dies its like a punch in the stomach, your dad cannot be gone, you
love him too much, it can’t be true; it is and you pine like some sick dog for
hours.
I
have never cried for my mother, she told us all no crying, so that’s what I
did, I obeyed her.
You
have to clear up after the dead, their home, their possessions have to be
sorted and even divided. As you go through the house, the flat, the one room
bed sit you see their life fall before you. Are they really like that, did they
really do this, all kind of everything are revealed. A secret drinker, a
collection of spicy videos, or just 6 Bibles all lined up; the dead have no
secrets, they are as naked as the day they were born.
I’ve
had to clear up, and help clear up several times, we had lodgers you see, so we
had to act as family and tidy everything up; sometimes even finding forgotten
Wills and then following them to the letter. Sending Home a couple of bodies,
people want to rest in their own clay; when my time comes there are 3 local
cemeteries where I could end up. Burial is best, I don’t want to be burnt, I’m
big the fire brigade would have to be ready.
As
I look out the window I can see a life being tidied up, everything is still raw
for them, you see this, you touch that, a photo or some treasure brings the
memories flooding back. When the tears are over you still have them, I tell my
kids our love is in them, mum and me made them, they are part of us, so they’ll
never lose us. As the possessions are taken from the house over the road a life
ebbs away, the character of the house is changing, I’ve seen all this before,
I’ve cleared up, I know how it feels.
A
chair or an old radio is taken away, its useful and you’ll remember gran/dad/mom/your brother when you use the
thing, but the thing is full of love because of who it belonged to.
Finally
you’ve finished and the house is empty, the house is dead, soon the house will
be sold. Soon the life of the owner is gone, the house is empty, but once the
new owner and family arrives the house will have a new life, it’s a home again.
Then new life is restored, all that remains are a couple of carrier bags found
forgotten in a pantry, you give them to the charity shop, at least somebody
will get a bargain.
https://www.amazon.com/MichaelCasey/e/B00571G0YC to buy my 1,000,000 words
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