In Memory

Stasso was a very beautiful woman in her advanced years so I can only imagine her in the bloom of youth. Listening in to conversation of her, she was called the Βασίλισσα, the Queen, due to her beauty and stateliness. She would go into the village and have worn different outfits in the morning and afternoon. I only knew her as a grandmother and beyond and I knew her beauty of spirit. She always spoke in soft tones and was so hospitable and caring.

They could not transport her to the island yesterday so she arrived by boat at 11 am this morning. The funeral service started at 12:30 pm. Family had come in from Athens and the church overflowed with visitors and villagers there to mourn and console. The sun was hot and bore down on all the people in the courtyard and on the street. I sat in the corner in the shade with the baby. Faviana sat on the steps. The service ended and the priests, still chanting, draped in purple and bearing gold crosses exited the church. The casket followed held up by six pall bearers, then family and friends. Down the lane, past the Kato Horio, out to the road and straight to the cemetary. The casket was placed down and the priests finished up their prayers. The casket was opened and the loved ones said their goodbyes amongst tears. Whoever did not fit in the tiny cemetary remained on the road. Slowly, the cemetary emptied of the bereaved and the family began to serve the guests. Men came by with raki and wine and little plastic white cups. The women came by with platters one by one of baccalliaro, meatballs, cheese, salami, breads and cheesepies. While the mourners ate and chatted, the deceased was placed in the ground.

The catholics here have the custom of taking the deceased out of the coffin and laying them in the underground crypt with a pillow. It is only after a certain amount of years have passed AND the crypt being in need again, that they crypt is reopened and the bones taken out, washed in wine, placed in a white pillowcase and then in a small box and then sealed in the wall of the cemetary. In the olden times, the underground crypt was actually under the church. The bones were never taken out but instead someone would get in and step them underfoot so that the next person could fit. There was only one wooden casket that the villagers would use to take the body from the home to the cemetary and it was used for every burial. That casket is still in the little church in the cemetary. The wooden frame is painted black and on the head of the box is a white skull with the letters Α and Ω.

With the construction of the new road, the road outside of the cemetary church is now a major thoroughfare for people heading to the other side of the island. Tourists with maps of Tinos crawled their cars through the throng of mourners. With so many people animatedly talking, I wondered if they knew they were passing a funeral or if they thought it was some kind of party? Finally enough cars had passed through and the people started to walk away in groups.

Iosef (Pippino) was in the middle of it all, having coordinated the funeral and all the arrangements. He was back and forth making sure everything was served. He was stoic and I hope that he finds a quiet space and the time to mourn soon. Our Condolences. May he live and remember her.