Funeral of Enrique's Father

Yesterday I learned before going to Inppares that Enrique's father passed away, inevitable but sooner than we thought. I spent a few hours itching to go to Carabayllo (up to 90 minutes away from Inppares and a trip much safer in a group) to comfort Enrique and finally Juan Pedro was ready to go at 5:30pm. We first collected money from people in Inppares, went to Comas to order flowers, then ate food at his house while the floral arrangements were being made. I learned that their house only receives water from 5:30-8:30 in the morning, so they store it in bins and use buckets to flush their toilets. 

After eating an egg, coffee, and some bread, we picked up the flowers and headed in a car all the way to Carabayllo to the wake of Enrique's father. Everyone was stressed and sad, and we chatted for awhile in the driveway. There were lots of people crying and lots of relatives. I didn't get much time to talk to Enrique or his twin Manuel, but they introduced me to their family members and showed me the casket. I left wondering what the funeral would be like the next day.

Today I got up really early, got ready, and met Gisella and her husband and Aurora at the Papa John's so we could all go to the funeral together. We met up with Gian Franco and Victor, two other people from Inppares, on the Metropolitano and went to Carabayllo. Fortunately the atmosphere of the pre-funeral (it was at 5 and we arrived at 11am) was a lot lighter than the wake. Although the twins were very sad and had to greet a lot of devastated relatives, we took some time to joke together in the Inppares circle, ate lunch together, and laughed a lot. I was SO relieved to see Manuel and Enrique smiling and laughing, sometimes cracking up so much they had to bend over. Unfortunately this got cut off every time another sad relative walked in. Once Enrique greeted a crying aunt of his, then later realized she was his great-aunt. He said some of these relatives he had never met before. :) 

A huge crowd gathered and the relatives carried the casket several blocks down the street. This tradition seemed excruciatingly painful, emotionally, and it was difficult to watch. Enrique and Manuel carried the front and bent down three times in succession for some reason I'm not sure of, the carriers rotated in a circle, then everyone applauded. This happened several times. The crowd sang a sad hymn and flower petals and stems got tossed on the casket, sometimes hitting the carriers in the face. It must have been so heavy and difficult to carry. I took a silent, nonflash picture quickly to remember this emotional moment. 

They put the casket in a hearse and the dozens of guests filed into two full-size buses and a number of waiting taxis. The family had their own special van, covered in the flowers arrangements from the wake.  We drove all the way to Puente Piedra, ten or fifteen minutes, to a special cemetery in the style of US cemeteries. It was beautiful, peaceful, and clean.

During the ceremony, the preacher read a few Bible quotes and gave a short discourse about them, even though at least two of the Lino children are atheists (the rest of the extended family is surely Catholic). Sad music played. Each of the four children got up to say a few words, and so did one of his brothers. The daughter's speech made me cry big time, as she talked about what a great father and man her dad was. I only met him once, and he was very sick then, but I have heard a lot about him from Enrique and learned more today.

I liked that the twins went up together to give their speeches, each standing with one arm wrapped around his brother. Enrique's words were so inspiring. I can't recall all of them, but I loved most that he said, "Remember that every one of our tears now was a smile my father had in life. We have to move forward and remember him how he was, making jokes up until the very end." 

During the service, I looked over at Enrique to see him as forlorn as I had ever seen him, looking blank and helpless. As the casket was lowered into the grave, Enrique's mom and sister cried loudly and it was painfully sad. The men cried too, but more quietly. 

After the service, the guests formed a huge line to give their condolences to the family. This cultural protocol seemed unreasonably difficult for the family in my opinion, and I was displeased that I would have to add to their suffering if I wanted to say goodbye to my friends and give them a hug. I cried thinking about it, but eventually was forced to join the line or else leave without saying goodbye (no way). 

It was a challenging day. No matter what the cause or how expected a death might be, no one wants to see children without their father, parents without their son, and a wife without her beloved husband. I thought a lot about my family and what this day means for my life. Tomorrow I'll have the chance to comfort Enrique because he's coming to Inppares and I think we'll go see a movie. 

Rest in peace, Julio Lino Rivera. I only met you once but you were funny and kind and raised some awesome children. :)