Funeral

It’s amazing what you can learn from death, especially in the cultural sense. Also, its very eye opening how different religions and cultures handle a passing. In Costa Rica it’s a social event, a gothic draw of the people and morbid obsession to see the body. Me personally I would rather remember the person as I knew them. Smiling a shy smile as he passed on his bike. However, the Costa Ricans, even the children, wanted to see the stitches that went from his nose to the middle of his skull as well as the line of stitches that held his cheek on. This is how it was described to me by a 7 year old. I’m leaving out the part about his hands and story of his leg. Than, even at the cemetery before they put the grey fur covered coffin in its new cement cradle it was opened once more for the viewers to see. In my eight months here I have never seen such a crowd in my community. And, have you ever heard of people filming a funeral and taking pictures. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Standing there in my floor length skirt, hair pulled back, and jewelry removed for respect purposes to the Church, La Luz Del Mundo, I watched the men in T-shirts and jeans take pictures while woman in short shorts and clubbing tops lifted their children to see the boy for the last time. I think this is what makes Costa Rica, Costa Rica. For me, I would like to be cremated or actually buried in the earth where I could let life takes its natural course. Also, please don’t jeans. Wear a pretty cocktail dress or something nice. One last observance from the day. Not that I really want to know but it crossed my mind. How long does it take a person filled with embalming fluid, closed in an air tight wooden box, placed and sealed in a cement cell to decompose?