Funerals

With so much of the population of the island being upwards of eighty years old, death was a part of life. For my Nana it was always a highlight. She never seemed to be sad when someone died, or at least she didn’t show it. It was an occasion to get dressed up, socialize and eat food. A good funeral put pep in Nana’s step, unless they died at a time when she was away from the island – which clearly irritated her. The images of all the ol’timers in the island church dressed up and stuffing their faces full of food still fills my mind. I don’t remember anyone actually dying, or the circumstances around their deaths. In my eyes they were alive working in their gardens, then we were at the church saying goodbye. My least favorite events were the viewings. Dressing up a body and slathering it in makeup so all the deceased person’s friends could talk about how great the person looked was very strange to me. I can remember telling my Nana in response to her saying how “great” he looked, “He doesn’t look great, he looks dead.” The thought of a viewing still gives me the chills and of course makes me think of my Nana, as it was when she was in her element. It must have been hard to watch the island elders pass on one at a time while just a few, my Nana included, remained. With them, died not only a person, but also a way of life on the island. As people died their children often sold the homes to hunters from the city. One funeral at a time, one house at a time, the island was changing.

I am blessed to have spent time with so many of the elders before they died. I got to hear their stories of how island life was when it was thriving around the turn of the century. Hundreds of people lived there, went to the one room schoolhouse (at least for a few years) and worked the water. Over time this way of life shifted, as it was harder to make a living off the water and a life off the island looked inviting for many of the children of the ol’ timers. But they remained on the island, most of them, and lived out their final years without medication usually (as going to the doctor “made you sick and die”) and died of old age. Most of my childhood buddies were gone by the time I was in middle school. Their memories and stories were alive in me though and I still remember them like it was yesterday.