My thoughts on a sombre day- Cirineo
I believe that my political and religious views are most personal. At the same time, during Easter Week (Semana Santa) I experience sombre days. I have written quite a few blogs on the subject. But I never equated that the word sombría, the Spanish equivalent, reveals that the origin of the word is from the Latin word sombrio for shadow.
Because I was raised in Argentina by a deeply religious grandmother and mother I was prohibited from turning on the radio on Viernes Santo. On Jueves Santo my grandmother took me to visit at least 6 different churches. It was a custom of the time.
Without (again) revealing my religious beliefs I think that knowledge of one’s religion if one associates it with one’s family it reinforces an intimacy that is now lost in this 21st century.
The lore behind any religion, including that of Roman Catholicism, like good literature, even Shakespeare’s, has helped me put a handle on my existence.
My grandmother taught me that a man she called Cirineo (Simon of Cyrene) was forcibly made to help Christ carry His cross. To this day people my age know that “un Cirineo) is a person who reluctantly might help you. I do not believe there is an equivalent of that concept in English.
In Semana Santa, its sombreness is for me a time to reflect of my existence. Rosemary died four years ago, but Semana Santa I think not as much about her but of my childhood family. Rosemary, our daughters, and granddaughters did go to celebrate Easter Sunday a couple of times with lunch at Brock House. But that is my only Easter memory associated with Rosemary.
Today, Viernes Santo, was a sombre day for me in spite of the sun and being able to take Niño for a walk around the block. Why the sadness? I can add that it has been a sombre day with a tiny ray of light.
I visited a friend (I was invited) who has suffered Parkinson’s for at least 27 years. He communicated back to me when I texted that we needed to see each other if for a last time. My friend had told me that he was on a waiting list for a June MAID (Medically Assisted Induced Death). I texted back that the concept of death was a concept I felt I could discuss with him seeing I had no inclination to try to dissuade him.
Our two hour visit today (I took my coffee grinder, French press and good coffee beans) was an experience I will never forget. We calmly discussed his plans. He told me that his fractured family had come together because of his decision and that members who had not spoken to each other for years had started.
The most startling utterance from this calm man was, “It was time to go.”
We discussed philosophic concepts of death beginning with Democritus and down the line to others including Plato.
My experience, I believe is a rare one, and when I left I understood that it was a rare experience that I will treasure for what is left of my life.
I did ask him one question. I asked if there was something special about my Rosemary asking me, 6 minutes before she died, “Am I dying?” (I did not answer). His reply was, “It was good death. When I go I will be put to death quickly so I will not know that seconds left I will be dead."
And of course he made a will.
The scan illustrating this blog is a little cross I found on Mocambo Beach in Veracruz. I attached the chain and gave it to my mother. It represents a tactile memory of a woman that I respected and loved – my mother.
