There had been a viewing and a service on Tuesday night at the church, and over 300 people had turned out, way more than could fit into the sanctuary. Fabian asked me to bring my guitar and lead some singing, which was, as it always is when I am asked to provide music for funeral services, an opportunity to hopefully bless a family in grief and to help provide comfort in those moments. Monday night's service was a subdued event. Our dear friend Rocio, who normally exudes a warm and serene joy, looked understandably drawn and tired, but she was surrounded by family, friends and fellow-church members as many came at the end of the service to pay last respects to a young man everyone thought the world of.
The evening service was mainly a message from Pastor Fabian, followed by singing and a viewing line for the casket and condolences for the family. We left around 10 pm, but I understood the next morning that family remained with the body overnight to keep vigil.
The next day, Wednesday, dawned warm and sunny, and we met up with the team from Grace Church in Guelph for their first morning in Carmen Bajo. God's timing in the middle of this tragedy is evident, as their team construction project this week is to pour the floor and the supports for a house for Ronsanjella, one of Rocio's daughters who has three children of her own, and who has had some recent serious health issues. Ronsanjella and her kids are
currently living with Rocio, and the death of Danny has put a further strain on all of them living in close quarters. Hopefully the team can be an encouragement to the family to help get construction well under way.
The burial was scheduled for Wednesday afternoon, and again Fabian asked me to be ready to lead singing. Sending the girls and Carina back to our apartment, I headed with many others back to the church. Again the place was packed for another service, in which we sang, Fabian again preached, and we also heard from grandmother Isabel and also from Rocio. She has had a year of trial after trial, and this latest blow, the loss of the son she felt closest to, must be almost impossible to cope with. Rocio spoke through tears of how this has been a year of chastisement for her personally, but she still puts her trust and hope in Christ and that God will somehow redeem what has been lost.
There is a moment in a funeral proceeding when the finality of what has happened has to set in. It's usually when the casket is closed and the body begins it's final journey. At the end of the service there was a noticeable agitation among the large gathering of family as the young men stepped forward to carry the casket to the rented truck for the drive to the El Batan mausoleum. Everyone either hitched a ride or took public transit to get there, about 20 minutes from the church. Again Fabian asked me to bring the guitar for the committal service. I was the only gringo now, standing out I'm sure in the sea of Quiteno faces. Santi drove a carload of us to El Batan and we parked, and then waited for the casket to arrive.
Danny was to be interred in the mausoleum, and it was my first time in such a place. Danny's final resting place was at the top level of one of the walls, and the casket was going to need to be lifted up by his family members via a scaffold-stairway that looked secure enough, except that this part of the wall was on an incline. We were nervous as we looked at this arrangement, wondering how easy it was going to be to safely get the casket into the tomb amidst the growing crush of mourners. Santi and I held back a bit with Fabian as I figured out the chords for a well-known Spanish chorus that Fabian suggested for when the time came.
After several minutes of waiting, the family arrived, Danny's casket on the shoulders of 8 of his brothers, relatives and friends. You could hear
the wailing echoing down the white halls as they wound down the circular ramp ways, and there was a
growing sense of anguish and dread as they approached the scaffold.
This was when everything really
broke. Everyone began to cry and
wail as the casket was carefully but precariously lifted up onto the stairs. At this moment a couple of the family members began shrieking and pushing towards the casket, not wanting to let go. There was a real moment of near hysteria and I saw Fabian and Grace and other members of the family trying to restrain and comfort those who were in utter anguish. Everything was made all the more intense with the
precarious position the scaffolding
was in, plus the fact that the ramp way had a 12-foot drop on one side with only a 1-foot abutment. If anyone had lost their balance, we would have had a serious injury on our hands.
My heart, all of our hearts, went out to the family in those moments. Canadian funerals, at least in my family and culture, are rather subdued affairs. I was not prepared for the anguish, the screams, the hand-wringing, and the intense yelling as at one point one of Danny's sisters had to be physically restrained.
In that moment, I recalled the
story of Lazarus, and of Jesus, when He finally approached the tomb
of His dear friend, and how it says "Jesus wept", but we understand it to mean He cried out in deepest anguish.
It is one of the most moving records of Jesus, in His humanity, feeling the very same desolation in the face of death that we do, that these dear ones were feeling in the last moments they had with what remained of a dear brother, son and friend.
The casket was somehow safely lifted, hoisted, turned and then slid into the hole in the wall, and a worker immediately stepped up, placed the white sealing stone and mortared it into place. In this mausoleum, some seals are ornately designed headstones with sculptured or painted portraits of Jesus, Mary or even the deceased themselves as they would be remembered by their families. Rocio and her family are not in any way well-off, so his headstone is simple white with his name roughly stenciled in black. It is up at a the top of the wall, they won't easily be able to touch it, or leave flowers or pictures or other mementoes as the years go by without someone getting them a ladder.
We wept. I believe Jesus wept along with us in that moment. I believe he feels for this family that has endured so much for so long, with
not much comfort in sight. And yet we also believe that because Jesus lives, there is yet hope for Danny, for Rocio, for the family, and for all of us.
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