End of an era

My wife and I have spent the last few days in Tarragona, the family town. Sadly, this was due to the death of Gemma's 96 yr. old grandmother, Maria Teresa ("l'Avia", or "grandma"). It was, understandably, a moving and draining experience. It was also the first funeral I've ever attended as an adult, let alone outside England.

Maria Teresa was an amazing woman who lived a life full of happiness, sadness and imagination. Born in 1911 in Tarragona, she lived through huge changes in her town and country, from the industrialisation of Tarragona, through the 2nd Republic, the Civil War and following repression, to democracy, bereavement and 9/11... she witnessed so much and had so many stories, you wouldn't believe. A prolific (though mostly unpublished) writer, she won the first poetry prize in Tarragona. She was also, apparently, the first woman in Tarragona to get a driving license. She frequently recounted her memories of having the vote taken away from her, as well as the restrictions imposed on her and her family during the dark early days of the dictatorship - but all these sad memories were tempered with her great love for her husband, sons and grandchildren, as well as her business life and her writing.

She had a heart attack on Monday and was admitted to hospital. Gemma went to see her immediately and found her animated - even nervous. That said, she was still perfectly lucid and was pleased to hear about, among various subjects, the state of Gemma's parents' new bathroom and the arrangements for Santa Tecla (Tarragona's festa major). Her breathing became difficult, until she received the last rites when she apparently relaxed before passing away.

On Thursday, the family met at the tanatorio - basically a mortuary. This was a pretty harrowing experience for everyone (particularly for Gemma and her father). In England, it's no longer normal to present the recently deceased in an open coffin and while for some it clearly offers some 'closure', I don't think anyone who passed into that darkened alcove felt any better for seeing Maria Teresa.

Yesterday was the funeral. It was a very Catholic affair (Maria Teresa was a devout churchgoer and the guardian of a chapel in the city's cathedral). I was struck by the way that the service seemed to be more about Jesus than the person we were all there for. Toward the end of the service, Gemma read a prize-wining poem that Maria Teresa had written for her grandmother. It was an immensely emotional moment. Personally, I had an apple-sized lump in my throat for hours afterwards.

The final part of the ceremony took place at the cemetery. Maria Teresa was laid to rest with her husband who died nearly 28 years before her. Some family members couldn't bear attending this part of the ceremony - partly due to something quite shocking that occurred when Gemma's grandfather was buried. Apparently, previous to the interment, the last occupant of the niche had been removed and their bones smashed to pieces in front of the mourners. It seems unbelievably insensitive that someone would do that... fortunately, this gruesome task was performed prior to our arrival this time.

Gemma and her dad decided to have an English-style wake, which involves drinks, food and singing. This went down very well with the attendant mourners - friends and family celebrating would definitely have been what Maria Teresa would have enjoyed. She was a great woman who'll be sadly missed.

MARIA TERESA PUIG ALTES 1911-2007