The sun came out with full measure on Sunday and we woke to a magical morning – the first really warm day with a nearly cloudless sky but it was overshadowed by the sad news that our elderly friend Nikos, who had been such a kind old man and good friend to us when we arrived in the village had died in hospital in Heraklion at 6.00 am on Saturday. Up the lane there were two large wreaths by the side of his front door with a notice of the church funeral to take place at 4.00 p.m. on Sunday afternoon.
We were sad to lose such a kindly presence and needed to ask what the procedure was to make sure that we paid our respects in the appropriate manner. It took quite a long time to unearth black clothing from drawers and cases and Kimon found a black tie, which was something of a miracle. Our new friend Kostas, who had just retired from his job in Athens and knew Nikos' son very well said that he would let us know what to do. Accordingly, at 3.45 p.m. every soul from our village dressed in black and sober colours walked up to the little church to pay their respects. There was a sand tray of tapers on a pedestal outside Nikos front door. The tradition is for people to drop by, offer sympathy to the family and light candles during the day so there were dozens of chairs all the way up the lane. We all waited for the family to emerge from the house; the priest began to toll the church bell and everyone followed the party up the hill. As the coffin is left open until after the service, most of us were content to stay in the background and pay our respects from a distance. It struck me as a gruelling experience for the family to organise such an event in such a short space of time but this is obviously the established practice. Posters printed, flowers organised, bakers instructed, people on hand to steward without any notice. However it all proceeded smoothly, very quietly and with great dignity.
The little church would never have housed all of us and I was mindful of getting trapped inside as on Christmas morning, so most of us stood outside while the service took place and the weather was STUNNING – almost too hot in the sun (wearing black) and too cold in the shade, but beautiful enough to give you a foretaste of heaven. From our spot, we could see a clear view of the mountains – the clearest yet this year – glossy and shimmering with new snow in a cloudless blue sky. After the proceedings the whole multitude shook hands with the poor family – wanting to somehow give strength to Georgia who had lost her husband just before Christmas – and accepting a little cake, beautifully wrapped, we took our leave – adding prayer upon prayer for all the family who were so pale and drawn. What a ghastly ordeal for them. Afterwards, back down the lane again, we warmed ourselves at Kostas and Aggelica's cafeneon where the woodstove was bursting with heat and the warm blanket of air embraced us in from the cold shadows; we toasted Nikos and were thankful for his friendship.
It is been a very busy week with Art School, a lecture on Archaeology – a tale of two islands, Crete v. Cyprus – on Wednesday, Anna's birthday on Thursday and the Carnival at the weekend. I will put all this extra news in another chapter next week, but we thought that dear old Nikos deserved a blog to himself this time. Meanwhile K is worrying about Nikos' chickens, his olive groves, his orange trees and his garden, but I am sure that his family and the village will have all this well organised.
No comments:
Post a Comment