Good Friday

It is Good Friday today, a religious holiday observed by Christians all over the world to commemorate the death of Jesus at Calvary. 

In all our years together, Jenny made sure we attended the late afternoon Good Friday mass in church.  We would dine out after mass. And always at a vegetarian restaurant. This obligatory abstention from meat was a welcomed change and few of us griped about the forced restriction, decreed by Mum.  After all it was only for a day in the year.

But for this GF holiday, the first after her passing on, without her heralding and rallying call to attend mass, our strength in faith was put to a test. We failed, needless to speak. Our eldest, W had whole day work assignments, whilst daughter C is overseas on an exchange programme, so the both had no lame excuses. But youngest daughter K and I had no reasons for missing.  

But guess what? We overslept for our afternoon siesta. We could have rushed off and still make it for the tail-end of the service but it was pointless to go so late. All said and to be honest, it was a pathetic and half-hearted attempt to fulfil this obligatory requirement to begin with.

Jenny would have been much disappointed if she had known how slack we were.

I awoke from my afternoon slumber, dazed and pricked with guilt, though it was not for fear of any divine punishment from above. I had once again failed to fulfil Jenny’s wishes.  That the family continue with their spiritual growth, even as she is no longer there to lead the way. This would be her unspoken bidding.

All the years I had known her, Jenny had been steadfast and uncompromising in her faith.  She rarely missed each weekend mass. During our courtship days, many of our weekend dates include attending mass together. Me, the uninitiated disbeliever, turning willing participant just so I could continue dating her. Truth be told, after we got married, I gave her all the support she needed to build a Catholic home for our family. We continued our association with the church community, mustering and raising up the kids to likewise walk the path, marshalling them to catechism classes for their weekly religious indoctrination.

But I now wonder if all that effort is going to waste. And I felt largely responsible. My agnostic influence appear to be undoing Jenny’s hard work, now that she is not here to assert herself.

Late as we were, K and I made our way to church. The plan was to drop by her niche. And in doing so, I could perhaps assuage some residue of the guilt gnawing me. I could at least say that I came by the church on this supposedly holy day of the year.  

We picked up a small stalk of flower before entering the columbarium. A purple carnation to adorn her niche.  If Jenny was looking down at us from heaven she would be frowning. A pitiful attempt to appease her for our plain laziness and irreverence for missing this obligation that is so significant for all devoted Catholics. “A real shame. I don’t know what to say”, I could almost hear her complaining.

But fortunately or unfortunately, I do not believe in the afterlife. It is just the Jenny I remember talking to me. The one kept intact within that is now troubling me. It was supposed to be a simple thing to do, to make sure we get our butts to church. An easy obligation to fulfil. But we flopped.

But as I reflected, how long could I persist with this charade? The kids are grown. They can think for themselves. As they should be.

“I feel so sad for Mum that after all her hard work, it seems to have gone to waste if you guys could not continue practising the faith. And I think I am to blame. I am such a let-down for her”

I could not help confessing to my daughter K, as we drove off to church. That my non-exemplary conduct was spiritually stifling and a bad influence in their catholic upbringing. She took a while to respond but when she did, her reply was more sanguine.

“Dad, don’t blame yourself. And all the years spent teaching us and attending Cat classes are not wasted. I am pretty sure we would not be who we are today with a clear sense of right and wrong if not for all the Sunday school we attended. Mum’s hard work is definitely paying off”.

Could this be the start of a total collapse in their religious future? That my kids will soon be joining the hordes of “lapsed Catholics?” I hope not. I married a woman who was strong and steadfast in her faith. It mattered little that I am unable to share the same beliefs. But as I had explained umpteen times to Jenny, faith in God and the unseen are matters of the heart. They are personal and should not be falsified. God if he exists, reveals himself in different ways to different people.

And my daughter spoke beyond the wisdom of her 18 years.  She was at least truthful even as she skirted around the issue of religious commitment.

The kids have always been our little gems and as I had shared with all the friends and relatives who came for Jenny’s funeral, when I delivered her eulogy, they are Jenny’s greatest gifts to me.  She bore all three through normal birth, nurtured them through the schooling years and sacrificed so much of her time to shape them to who they are today.  I see her attributes glowing in all of them – generous and kind, cheerful and positive-minded. 

She has left me for good. But in leaving, she has also left behind her greatest blessings for me. In the form of my three kids, each so different in character and personality, but yet all three are splitting replicas of her.  Even as they have minds of their own.