Grimly Reaping: God & Mortality

Originally published October 2007

I'm not really into architecture or anything like that, but the structure that has impressed me most is the Glasgow Necropolis. I say structure; in truth it's many structures as the necropolis is a huge Victorian graveyard covering about 37 acres right in the middle of Glasgow. In it there are many mausoleums and monuments denoting the final resting places of Glasgow's dearly departed some designed by leading architects of the day. About 50,000 people are buried there.

The Victorians were fascinated by death. It was the hot topic of the time. It the years between then and now sex & death have swapped places. Death used to be discussed openly and in polite society, whilst sex was a very taboo subject. Whilst we now find it difficult turning on the TV or reading a magazine without encountering sexual content, death has become ignored and anyone who chances to mention it runs the risk of being accused of being morbid or depressing everyone.
But I'm not sure we should refuse so obstinately to talk about death. It is the only thing in life that is definitely going to happen to each and every one of us. Regardless of what we achieve in life, wherever we succeed or fail we will all die. So why do we stick our fingers in our ears and go, "La la la la la." When the subject's raised.

I actually quite like graveyards. I find them very quiet and relaxing. In the summer I sometimes go to a graveyard near where I work during my lunchbreaks to read. But I do sometimes explore old graveyards reading what's written on the gravestones and it makes me wonder about the lives of the people buried there; who were they? What became of the beloved wife they left behind? I try to find the graves of people killed in the world wars and wonder about what that person could have achieved had they not been called to fight, what the daughter left behind by lance-corporal-gunner Smith was told about the father she never met.
Does this speculation make me morbid? No, I don't think it does. In the spring & summer days when the sun is out, the birds are singing and the trees & flowers are in full bloom there is a juxtaposition between the graves and the abundance of life there is to be found in a graveyard which demonstrates the fragility and beauty of life and underlines the fact that I am alive and that I share the earth with those who went before me. "As for Man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower in the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more."

It may seem like a strange thing to say, but I think death can bring out the best in people. To be more precise, losing someone close can. I think that sometimes our grief and loss can strip away any pretensions we may hold about ourselves and in our pain there is reflected our true selves; delicate, maybe somewhat diminished, but an honest image of who we are. Families will often pull together to help each other through a difficult time where maybe they don't often communicate with each other, differences can be put aside as each person reflects and takes stock of their own life, held in relief against the passing of the one they've lost.


I've been to some great funerals. I've been to some awful ones too where peoples grief has erupted been very angry, but I've been party to some real celebrations. Because people are already emotional that emotion can be turned into something approaching a really happy time. People can reminisce and tell anecdotes and laugh and sing at funerals. Sometimes the grief can be forgotten for a few hours. It doesn't necessarily dishonour the memory of the deceased, I think most people would say they want people at their funeral to celebrate their life rather than mourn their death. I'd say that 2 out of the 10 best nights out I've had have been after funerals.


When I left school I took the first job that was offered to me, which was catering in a nursing home. I ended up working there for 5 years during which there was a steady turnover of residents as one by one they shuffled off this mortal coil and others moved into the home. In my first year of working there an old couple made a big impression on me. Horace & Esther were probably well into their 80's and were newly weds. They'd met a few years earlier, fallen in love & got married. They lived in the nursing home in the room opposite one of my kitchens in the only room with a double bed rather than a hospital bed as they both had mobility problems and Esther had a bad heart. They were very funny together and a favourite of the nursing staff. One morning when I'd worked there for about 6 months an ambulance had to be called as Horace was in terrible pain. He was taken into hospital where he died the same day. Esther was devastated. Over the week that followed the nursing staff had to spend a lot of time with her consoling her and just keeping her company. On the day of his funeral the home was filled with their families and Esther put on her best suit and was taken to say goodbye to her husband. The next day when the nursing staff went to get her out of bed they discovered that she'd died in her sleep. It was as if she'd just been waiting until she knew he was safely tucked in, then she checked out herself.
A strange notion - for an 18 year old - that you could have some say in when you die, but one I saw a few times whilst I was there.

So how do I feel about my own death? How does my own mortality sit on my shoulders? Well, I'd like to deserve a well-attended funeral and positive obituary. I'm not sure that I'd get them now so would rather not die just yet. I think I'm ok with the fact that I will die, but I'm not really looking forward to the possibility of one of any number of nasty ailments that could finish me off in old age – if I live that long. And after my funeral I want those who attended it to go to the pub and have more than one drink. I want them to raise a toast; not to me – I'll be dead – but to themselves to celebrate the years they've out-lived me by.