Mass was scheduled at 9 a.m. in the morning so that the family could be at the 11 a.m. hearing. The funeral car came to pick up the body and we walked from the house to the church, El Señor del Escapulitas for mass. The sons and my father-in-law stood with the casket in front of the alter during mass. The daughters stayed with their families in the first few pews. My son and I knelt when every one else knelt, stood when everyone else stood and said amen when everyone else did. I can’t say that the mass was in anyway personalized from what I understood. Nothing about her life was mentioned, just the solemnized intonations of ritual prayer. My mother-in-law’s coworkers from the Presidencia came along with a good group of teachers from the school I was working at.
I, unfortunately, experienced another death later in the year when my friend, el maestro (teacher) died. The mass said over his body was an entirely different affair. The Padre (priest) spoke about the fullness of his life and quoted beautiful and hopeful passages from the bible. There was music and singing. And when his coffin left the church, the masses that had gathered in the Centro gave el maestro (teacher) a standing ovation. My mother-in-law’s funeral paled in comparison.