It has been a busy day.

People came round and prayers were said for my grandfather. My brother and I sat together, both of us, unsure about the content of the prayers! Weird. I am able to understand some of the parts of surahs, but not much. I have not been given the education you see! Strange how it is to continue the customs and traditions of ones parents culture without any of the 'filling in the gaps' education. Also strange to see the generations : dad, brother, me, in one room thinking about our grandfather, who was thousands of miles away The prayer lent some spiritual intimacy to the moment, but it was continuously public and private at the same time. This is what purpose all ritual offers the legitimate process for grief, the institutionalisation of emotion. Public, and safe, contained with a spiritual rubric, and some factility to maintain, encompass solidarity Prayer felt like meditation, the words of the mollavi seemed to become hypnotic, and fused with the concentration, and awareness of the room. IT is as though the room became an organism... Perhaps this is what Durkheim meant by organic solidarity? (But in fact, i think that i have remembered that the wrong way round, because organic was the modern, secular kinship wasn’t it??). Anyway, a profound experience, one which echoes the profound grief that my dad felt I hope.

The Muslim way seems to be so much more in touch with the necessity and requirements of grief then the Christian funeral / wake. Perhaps I'm not experienced enough for which I am grateful.

All in all death did not escape my thoughts today...