All Soul's Day

Yesterday was All Soul’s Day. I was notified by post that there would be a special evening mass to commemorate this day in honour of the dead. Having recently set up the niche for Jenny’s final resting place at our church columbarium was why I was in the mailing list for such notifications.

So I rallied the kids and duly made my way to church after work.  We reached on time, but tough luck, it was standing room only. Our church hall, with enough pews for more than a thousand worshippers was overflowing beyond its capacity. It was a strong turn-out that caught me by surprise. But I shouldn't be. Like us, many other parishioners would also have dearly departed loved ones to be praying for.

All Soul’s Day is observed mainly by Catholics. Most Protestants would cringe at the idea of praying for the dead.  But Catholics believe that through the power of prayer their loved ones can be released earlier  from the bowels of Purgatory and  rise into the pearly gates of Heaven.

I will refrain from arguing about beliefs, after all it is all about faith.  Which I am quite lacking and perhaps in need of.  But I am clear about why I came for the Mass. I came because Jenny wanted me to. And that was good enough a reason for me.

I felt the tug of her presence throughout the mass proceedings. Perhaps it was the ambience, the solemnity of the occasion, or the homily, or the beautiful hymnals sung in harmony. I was moved as never before in all the years of accompanying Jenny for Sunday Mass.

After the Mass end, most of the parishioners ambled their way to the columbarium, with their lighted up candles in hand. I have never seen this abode for the faithfully departed so crowded before. As expected, Jenny’s niche would be adorned with additional stalks of flowers, thanks to her loving sister. Amazingly, she comes by every day to visit her niche.  Everyday. And I thought I am the one who might be missing her the most.

At Jenny's niche, I could not hold back the tears any further and sobbed away, in spite of the crowds milling all around. I was unconcerned about anyone noticing. Most people have their own share of mourning to deal with to even notice me crying. And even if they did, why would I care? All I could feel was the overwhelming hurt. In fact the pain was already accumulating since the day began. For much of the time at work, I was barely functional, putting up a false front to disguise my sadness. So the emotional outpouring was cathartic, a necessary release.

I could not be sure if it being All Soul’s Day had anything to do with it but yesterday was one of the tougher days in my journey of grief thus far. 

I noted also that it was exactly 200 days since Jenny’s passing on and shared this with the kids. 200 days and counting.