I returned to Finland last summer to celebrate Finnish mama’s 86th birthday. The sisters and I prepared cakes, sandwiches and coffee for the guests who came to her party. It was a beautiful day. Neighbours and friends brought flower baskets and bouquets to wish her all the best. I brought a good bottle of cognac, which I knew she would enjoy slowly. A nip from time to time would warm her ageing body. As is the tradition on birthdays, I suggested we hoist the flag in front of the farm house. It was also a sign that it was a significant day.
An unexpected event occurred that evening. It happened so quickly. She fell down a short flight of stairs, apparently because of a stroke, and passed away. It happened before my eyes. We administered cardiac massage, but it was in vain. I held her hand and spoke to her lovingly as the hand went cold. The flag was lowered to half-mast.
Stupefied neighbors came back upon seeing it waving halfway down the pole. We were all in shock. The celebration of a birth and a death on the same day? That wasn’t supposed to happen. I opened the bottle of cognac and poured for all of us. I just felt that it was the right thing to do and it was accepted graciously.
The funeral plans were complicated by an autopsy, but the sisters and I planned a grand affair to celebrate their mother and friend of many. I had never been to a Finnish countryside funeral before. We were all in black, despite the summer heat. All of the attendees brought beautiful arrangements of flowers that were laid next to the coffin as each person said a few words of farewell, of appreciation, of love. The flowers were picked up so the coffin could be escorted to the freshly dug grave next to the chapel. Once in the ground, the flowers were put down again on top of a panel that covered the hole. The entire grave was covered in an exquisite carpet of flowers.
From there we walked to the reception room. It is the tradition to serve a meal at a countryside funeral and the mourners came hungry. The food was catered, despite the great culinary talents of the daughters. Once again, family and friends stood to say a few, or in some cases, many, words. Music was played and tears flowed. A slide show filled the wall with images of a hard, happy life. Laughter and hugs ended the afternoon. We experienced so many emotions in the days between the birthday and the funeral. Her celebrations started and ended with the most beautiful bunches of flowers I have ever seen. Finnish mama was born and died on her family land. She loved flowers and was surrounded by those who loved and appreciated her. I’m sure she was smiling down on us that day.
— MCW
An unexpected event occurred that evening. It happened so quickly. She fell down a short flight of stairs, apparently because of a stroke, and passed away. It happened before my eyes. We administered cardiac massage, but it was in vain. I held her hand and spoke to her lovingly as the hand went cold. The flag was lowered to half-mast.
Stupefied neighbors came back upon seeing it waving halfway down the pole. We were all in shock. The celebration of a birth and a death on the same day? That wasn’t supposed to happen. I opened the bottle of cognac and poured for all of us. I just felt that it was the right thing to do and it was accepted graciously.
The funeral plans were complicated by an autopsy, but the sisters and I planned a grand affair to celebrate their mother and friend of many. I had never been to a Finnish countryside funeral before. We were all in black, despite the summer heat. All of the attendees brought beautiful arrangements of flowers that were laid next to the coffin as each person said a few words of farewell, of appreciation, of love. The flowers were picked up so the coffin could be escorted to the freshly dug grave next to the chapel. Once in the ground, the flowers were put down again on top of a panel that covered the hole. The entire grave was covered in an exquisite carpet of flowers.
From there we walked to the reception room. It is the tradition to serve a meal at a countryside funeral and the mourners came hungry. The food was catered, despite the great culinary talents of the daughters. Once again, family and friends stood to say a few, or in some cases, many, words. Music was played and tears flowed. A slide show filled the wall with images of a hard, happy life. Laughter and hugs ended the afternoon. We experienced so many emotions in the days between the birthday and the funeral. Her celebrations started and ended with the most beautiful bunches of flowers I have ever seen. Finnish mama was born and died on her family land. She loved flowers and was surrounded by those who loved and appreciated her. I’m sure she was smiling down on us that day.
— MCW
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