By Christina Abt
Buffalo, NY – As an American of Irish Descent, there is one thing about my ancestry of which I am absolutely, positively sure. The Irish know how to celebrate as well as they know how to mourn . and often times the two, are one and the same.
I can recall as a young child the Irish wakes held in my grandparent's homestead. The deceased would be laid out in the parlor while family and friends gathered in numbers that overflowed the rambling farmhouse and spilled out onto the wrap around porch.
Each night the parish priest would come and recite a litany of prayers for the dear departed soul, after which, the house would empty of all but the immediate family. And that's, don't you know, when the real Irish wake would begin.
We children would be put to bed and the adults would then gather round the kitchen table stocked with glasses and a bottle of fine Irish Whiskey. The toasting and singing would start and go on til the wee hours of the morning when at last, my grandmother would insist that everyone go off to bed now.
This routine would carry on for several nights, until the funeral day arrived. The deceased's mass and burial were always dignified, solemn, and emotional. But once the body was lowered into the grave, everyone returned to my grandparent's house for a party that without fail equaled any celebrations I had ever known.
Food, drink and music were the order of the funeral day. And the longer the day went, the more lovingly outrageous everyone's behavior became, all in celebration and memory of the family member recently departed.
These memories and more always come to my mind in March, a month known to the Irish as The High Holy Month of St. Patrick, sainted founder of the Emerald Isle. It is also the month that my mother passed away just days short of her favored St. Patrick's holiday.
Being an only child, planning my mother's wake and funeral was completely my responsibility. And so I did the only thing that I knew, by right and by heritage. I threw my mother a good old-fashioned Irish wake.
Now for the most part, the wake was a matter of organization and making a list. Buy Irish Whiskey, buy food, invite family and friends, buy more Irish whiskey, reserve the church, meet with the undertaker, make sure to buy some more Irish Whiskey, write the eulogy, order the flowers, drink a lot of Irish whiskey.
But the element of my mother's Irish wake that presented the greatest challenge was the music. I wanted to have live Irish music with which to celebrate my mother's life. However, the fact that she passed away just days before St. Paddy's Day made it almost impossible to find Irish musicians who were not otherwise engaged.
That is until I found a brother duo from Rochester by the name of the Dady's. These two men were booked day and night throughout St. Patrick's week. But upon hearing of my need, they pushed and pulled their schedule around and made time for my mother's celebration. And on that sunny and bitterly cold March 12th, 2000 The Dady Brothers performed a wonderful collective of soulful Irish tunes in the Church and processed us all the way to the gravesite. And after the funeral, once we returned home, they played us through a most memorable afternoon of dancing jigs and tearful verses, all in the tradition of a true Irish wake.
Since then, when the anniversary of my mother's passing draws near, I always search out the Dady Brothers to see if they might be playing their wonderful Irish music at a nearby watering hole. So you can imagine my delight when this year I discovered that on March 12th, the actual anniversary of my mother's Irish wake, the Dady's are playing a concert in Buffalo.
And so on March 12th, my husband, my children, my beautiful grandchild that my mother didn't get to meet and I will once again join with the Dady Brothers to celebrate and to mourn my mother with Irish song and laughter. And as we do, I know mom will be right there along side us singing Danny Boy in her best off key style, and celebrating... as only the Irish can do.