Good evening, friends of the blog. It has been a long time since I last wrote in this community, but I hope to be welcomed back and to avoid any missteps. Today is All Souls' Day—which, by coincidence, also marks the anniversary of my father’s passing; he died on November 2nd, some years ago, at the age of only 54. In Italy, it is customary to commemorate the dead through religious masses and by visiting cemeteries to leave flowers—practices deeply rooted in Catholic tradition. Although I am neither Catholic nor Christian—I prefer to define myself as agnostic—I still visit the cemetery to pay my respects. It is death itself that I wish to discuss today: the Grim Reaper, the "black angel"—an inevitability from which no one, rich or poor, can escape. I want to reflect on our relationship with death; in many Western nations, as religious institutions and beliefs have declined, death has come to be viewed as a source of pure terror. I suspect that, deep down, this is true for everyone—the fear of death is atavistic, stemming from a dread of the unknown and of pain. The reality is that none of us knows what lies beyond—if anything exists at all. In the past, perhaps, we were better prepared for death.
In Italy, there were once many elaborate funerary rites: the deceased would be kept at home during a wake, filled with prayers and litanies, where friends and family would gather to say a final goodbye. Funerals were far more boisterous—there were even women hired to weep and wail (the so-called lamenti). Today, by contrast, many of us pass away in hospitals rather than at home; we are then moved to mortuaries alongside others, eventually being laid to rest in funerals that are sober and simple. It is as if there were a desire to forget the deceased as quickly as possible—and, above all, to avoid any thoughts or reminders of death—with the result that the period of mourning is kept brief; people are encouraged to return to their normal lives and move on, often without having truly processed the loss or been allowed to experience their natural grief.
In other countries and cultures, there are likely different customs and rituals for the deceased—things I would be curious to learn about. As it stands, death is a subject people are often afraid to even discuss; furthermore, certain perspectives and media outlets don’t help, portraying death through the lens of horrific ghosts, bloodthirsty spirits, and the like. This—even if only subconsciously—amplifies our fear of the afterlife (and I say this as someone who actually enjoys the horror genre!). Those who hold some form of faith are perhaps more fortunate—whether they believe in a heaven, rewards in the afterlife, reincarnation, or any other concept. There is such a wide array of religions and spiritual beliefs to choose from. One might even wonder if religions themselves originated from an inherent fear of death—though that is a vast topic, and one I lack the expertise to fully explore. Still, I envy those who have faith, as it offers them a source of comfort. I, too, would like to believe in something beyond—I truly hope for it—but a more pragmatic part of me suspects that we simply dissolve, and that the cessation of brain activity marks the absolute end. I know this is a rather bleak outlook, especially since I hope—one day, though hopefully not for a long time yet—to be reunited with my loved ones who have passed away.
Lately, I’ve found myself dwelling on death quite often; perhaps it’s because I’ve lost several friends, or because I struggle with depression, hypochondria, and panic attacks—during which, naturally, I am terrified of dying. A frantic, overwhelming fear. In any case, I feel that today, death is discussed far too casually—or perhaps too little—without giving people the time or space to process this monumental and frightening transition. Well, I’ll sign off for now, my fellow blog readers; I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this somber subject.
Picture source ( https://pixabay.com/it/illustrations/angelo-ai-generativo-ali-statua-7756537/)
