Funeral

The somber dirges played during funeral processions are easy to hear from my office window. Despite not being heavily populated, the age demographics of Chiprovtsi are such that these events are not uncommon. Often, my colleagues and I stand and watch as loved ones of the deceased proceed slowly through town to the gravesite.

Close family members lead the procession, carrying flowers and a cross for the grave. The hearse, an old VW van with its rear doors open, follows, displaying the open casket inside. Behind the van, a crowd of mourners grows as people join while it winds through the town. Several older men, one with a drum and symbol and a few with horns are the last to pass by, providing a constant soundtrack of slow, sad music for the walk to the graveyard.

I attended my first Bulgarian funeral this week for one of my colleagues’ relatives. Even though I joined the mourners near the edge of town, we still had a kilometer or so to walk. The predominately elderly crowd seemed unperturbed by the uneven road to the cemetery or the uphill return. They continued, arm in arm, at a steady pace.

An Orthodox cleric presided over the approximately 30 minute ceremony. When we began to leave the cemetery, close family members of the deceased, hurried from the graveside to an open vehicle trunk full of food which they began to pass out to mourners. I was surprised that those in the deepest state of mourning were now hurrying to treat the rest of his, but was told that by taking the bread, you must say a prayer for the deceased, asking God to forgive his sins.

The differences between this funeral, in a small town in Bulgaria, and those I’ve attended in America were significant. Joining around 75 mourners—friends and family of decade long relationships—to escort the deceased to his final resting place was a beautiful experience. It was so different from the individual line of cars that drive to an American cemetery. The deep roots of people who raise their children in the same homes in which they were born and know each other for decades is so different from anything I’ve experienced. This shared and interwoven history, combined with the foreign rites of an Orthodox sacrament, made the funeral a unique experience to witness.