How To Be More Awesome Dead Than You Were Alive

Holding onto your 'Wildhood' long after you're gone.

Last week I logged into my banking app and was greeted with a pop-up ad stating that November is “Make a Will” month.

Who knew?

This unlikely piece of news got me remembering back to a post I published a couple of years ago in a grief newsletter I used to write. The story was about odd ways different cultures celebrate death.

You might be asking yourself how on earth this could possibly fit into the “Wildhood” theme. Keep reading and you’ll see. Then you’ll be running to your nearest lawyer to update your will so they know you want your ashes packed into fireworks and shot out over a lake at midnight. 😂😂

Those of us in Western cultures grieve pretty hardcore, don’t we?

Of course, it’s the saddest thing on earth to lose a loved one and we make damn sure everyone knows it’s the saddest. Grief on Instagram is a whole showcase of who’s the most bereaved.

I know this because I was one of them.

But have you ever wondered why are we so entrenched in the most wretched parts of death and mourning?

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In a previous life, I spent many years as a destination writer in Jamaica. It was my pleasure and privilege to experience the nitty-gritty of the island and its culture.

One of the most bizarre things I ever did was attend a memorial event against my will. Okay, so it wasn’t against my will but it certainly wasn’t on my agenda that day…or any other day.

I had planned a day-long motorbike tour with a local friend around the south coast. We ripped around for hours, me in my cutoffs, tank top, and flip-flops. Crazy windblown hair from riding without a helmet.

His brother snapped this pic from another bike right beside us. I felt like part of a bike gang with these guys.

As we rode down a small rural road we came upon a large yard where hundreds of people were gathered. Loud music played from 15-foot speaker stacks, and everyone had a drink in their hand.

It looked like a helluva street party to me.

My friend parked his bike and we entered the yard. Unbeknownst to me, it was a post-funeral gathering for a community resident.

How did I figure that out? Because a crowd of onlookers were assembled around the most extraordinary grave marker I’d ever seen. It was a scale replica of the decedent’s actual home, hand-crafted out of concrete.

This is not the one I saw but it’s just as elaborate.

Courtesy of Jamaica Gleaner

The travel writer in me desperately wanted to whip out my camera and snap photos because it was unbelievably cool, but the human in me felt it would be inappropriate.

Not only did I feel awkward being there the way I was dressed, but I stood out like a sore thumb based on my skin color.

For a brief moment, I felt like a total insult to the family. A casually dressed foreigner crashing a Jamaican funeral. But then someone handed me a drink in a red party cup, gave me a cheers and a “Yah mon!” and I instantly felt welcome.

I swear it was one of the oddest moments I’d ever experienced on that island. But in hindsight, it’s only odd because that’s not what we do.

In Jamaica, the funerary tradition is called a “Nine-Night,” or sometimes a Dead Yard. I’d always heard of it but never seen one until that day.

Wikipedia says:

“It’s a tradition practiced in the Caribbean (primarily Belize, Antigua, Grenada, Dominica, Jamaica, Guyana, Trinidad and Haiti). It is an extended wake that lasts for several days, with roots in African religious tradition. During this time, friends and family come together to the home of the deceased.

In the old days, the nights were calm and reserved for the most part - but that tradition has changed with the times. Today, these gatherings resemble parties much more than they resemble wakes.

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Jamaicans aren’t the only ones who celebrate death on such a grand scale.

In New Orleans, they might send you out with a Jazz parade. They also mix cremation ashes with glitter and march on down to Lake Ponchartrain as a community to throw loved ones’ ashes into the water.

In Bali, public cremation is a festive occasion that frees the spirit.

In Ghana, they celebrate death in style with fantasy coffins. Forget the little old woman who lived in a shoe. You can DIE and stay forever in a shoe if you want to!

Image courtesy of Ghana for 91 Days.

In Mexico, they have Dia de Muertos (Day of the Dead), a vibrant, country-wide celebration of all souls.

Image courtesy of National Geographic

And here in North America?

We sit in a church and cry. And then cry some more. And then we make a Facebook tribute page. And then we go on Instagram and create a melancholy profile for our grief.

It’s interesting to think that where you are on earth can dictate how you feel about and commemorate death, isn’t it?

SIDE NOTE: If you have any interest in the cultures and traditions in New Orleans, I HIGHLY, highly recommend watching the HBO series, Treme. The whole thing is incredibly well done and it touches on the mourning jazz parades and scattering of glitter ashes. I want glitter ashes and a parade!

Have you ever considered that we focus too much on loss and not enough on celebrating the life that once was?

Have you lost a loved one that you think might have rather ended up in a designer shoe or a fireworks display?