Reading for Friday, 16 January
Death sticks in the mind in a funny way. Both my parents are still alive, but to this day, I remember when my grandparents passed away (not all at the same time, thank goodness).
The first one that I remember was my Dad’s father, who died when I was about six. There’s something quite powerful and terrible about the rituals of death. Funerals, burials – yes, for many funerals, we use the term “celebration of life” and there is a definite tendency for Christian funerals to be more pleasant to go to than others, because there’s a belief in an afterlife – but it’s still an awesome and shocking thing.
And so this chapter, describing Marya remembering all the little details of her father’s death, rings very true to life to me.