Grief, Yoga and Irish Wakes

After the last two funerals I have been to for someone significant to me, I did the only constructive thing I could thing of to do -- go to a yoga class.  Yesterday I learned what the term 'Irish Wake' means.  I left after five hours and it was still going strong.  It was everything I would have imagined -- beer, stories, laughter, tears, kids, old people, lots of good food, flowers and something unexpected, what appeared to be a professional photographer. The Mass was SRO, the eulogy superbly crafted and delivered -- what a send off.
Since I don't drink beer (yes, I was a friend of Anne Mullaney's and have never had a beer in my life), I started to eat -- lots.  One of the life experiences Anne and I shared was Weight Watchers and I imagine her making some witty yet pointed comment about how many points were in all that stuff I consumed while others were drinking beer.  I recall a few conversations with Anne about yoga, including a particular one about 'legs up the wall' pose and also about our on again, off again relationship with Weight Watchers points. 
Anne's obituary requested memorial contributions to two of her favorite charities (and yes, that school Anne wanted to build in Haiti will be built); many people and organizations sent flowers also.  How many people get flowers from Guinness at their funerals? 
The photograph above is one of the most beautiful arrangements I have ever seen (free plug for Toadflax in Shadyside). 
Anyway, back to yoga.  The evening of my mom's funeral in 2009, I went to a yoga class because I had nothing else to do.  The Irish have it all over the Italians in that respect since they apparently surround the family with activity and love in a marathon-like experience, making the need to find something to do the evening of the funeral a non-issue. 
In 2009, I wrote a reflection on that yoga class that I will add to this post later if I can find it.