I was at a wake last night, accompanying Caren and two of her friends, Rona and K-Anne. I decided to go because it was at Libingan ng mga Bayani (Heritage Park, actually, right next to it.), and I have never been there before. Like they always, say, visit as many places as you can before you die. Brrr.
The wake we went to was different from all others that I've been to. It was high profile. To Caren and her friends, she was the mother of one of their groupmates back in college. Pretty normal, don't you think? But to me and to the rest of the world, she was actually the wife of a Supreme Court Justice Associate.
And so I witnessed how the rich died and were remembered.
The Heritage Park chapel had four rooms, capable of housing 4 different wakes at a time. This wake took up all four rooms by itself, and was averaging 1,500 guests a day. I guess Caren put it best, "That's much better traffic than in a Ministop store." Touche'.
Not only the guests were plentiful, there was a buffet table with chafing plates that never got empty. Wreaths were flowing outwards, spilling out to the lobby of the Chapel, which was a good 150 feet away from the rooms. From every significant politician, every notable institution, or as far as I could tell anyway. I saw flowers sent from Senators Lacson and Villar, A huge wreath from our VP Kabayan Noli, and of course Fidel Ramos and Family threw in a few bouquets, too. Governors, congressmen, probably from anybody who was a somebody in Philippine politics. People like that surely get remembered. So this was how the rich died. It made my head spin.
But for an entirely different reason.
It made me think about my own future wake. How will I be remembered? How do I want my wake to go? How do I want to be buried? How many people will come and visit me at my wake? And how many will visit me at my tomb?
And what about if I die rich? Will I get the same treatment as I saw last night? I was certainly overwhelmed by the hugeness of the event, like it was one big party. I'd like my own to be a celebration of my Going Home to the Big Guy Up There, though significantly smaller than the soiree last night. It was much too huge for me.
And if I die poor? Will my closest friends and loved ones come? I sure hope so. Either I die rich or poor, I just want a small congregation of people, though surely I won't be able to control that once I'm snug in my coffin. I want a simple service. And hopefully I don't get buried among many others. I hope I get buried under the shade of a big tree, on the land that I hope I'd have someday. I guess that final resting place sums up all of how I wanted to be when I was still alive -- FREE.
Postscript: I shivered and had goosebumps all over while writing this entry. But overall, it made me feel good, in a weird kind of way. I recommend you try it.