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The Call of Death by the Bean Si
from Issue #7 March 2004
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The darkness cast her soft downward veil shrouding Podraig O' Mulligan as he lay, so quiet, so perfectly still... So dead looking...
Careful not to tip over any of the burning candles, or slip on the Holy Water Father Francis had scattered, Connor a wee man of stature stretched to peer into the hard wood crib. He had never seen this man so quiet, and how different he appeared. It was as if he was wearing the mask of Jesus himself! Hadn't he heard his Granny Tilly say that he used to wear such a scowl on his face that he would scare the pigs away, never mind the Devil himself! And now for heavens sake what was going to happen since he looked as serene as the Lord himself!! The entire village of Clougher always said that Podraig O' Mulligan would find some way to cheat himself through the Pearly Gates, and now it looked like his Grandfather was going to live right up to the sentiment of the entire village!
Bless his Grandmother's soul; she must think of his death as an invitation to freedom. Connor shivered. His thoughts were suddenly disturbed as a cold wind blew the shutter loose on the window and bellowed the antique lace curtains inwards. Podraig let out a deep barren guttural whinge as he cried out for the White Lady to send the coach. "Bejesus!" thought Connor, the old man had screamed just like his wallet had run dry! For goodness sake what would the Bean Si be doing coming anyway to this tight old turf farmer, as surely she had far better and more considerate folk to cry for!
Thinking he sensed his Grandmothers presence, Connor looked over his shoulder for her. She was not there. He remembered her Alzheimer's and thought that she may have already forgotten the old man was dying. Perhaps she was gone checking the bank account balance to see if Podraig would be leaving enough money to pay for the wake! Connor felt jubilant at the thought of a Guinness paid for by the old man himself, but that idea quickly turned into a good tight grimace at the thought of anything being paid out of his meagre inheritance! Connor wondered if there would indeed be enough Nuns in Ireland to pray for forgiveness for Podraig as the expense of sending his grandfather's soul out of purgatory was going to cost more money than what the Devil himself could conjure up.
Noticing the candles had lost their flame, Connor walked over to light a taper from the radiant turf fire. His Grandmother always adored the aroma of the paltered peat's as the smoke wafted and dribbled throughout the nooks and crannies of the cottage. It did nothing for Connor. He returned the veil of soft light around Podraig's deathbed. In Connor's mind formed a master plan to send his dear old Granny off packing to the peat bogs when he took control of the farm!
Connor turned abruptly to the window as an almighty bolt of lightning sizzled across the sky. The wind chimes danced violently outside. The moaning wind appeared to Connor to be increasing in fever and intensity. The wind howled faster into cries of wanton despair. Connor swung around in the crib's direction as Podraig chanted over and over again, "The Lady of Sorrow walks, the Lady of Sorrow walks." His eyes glazed over into a death like trance.
A crack of riveting thunder brought Connor's attention back to the window again. Another fiery lighting bolt illuminated the old Churchyard that was home to the village's dead. Connor grasped his breath in sharply, quickly blessing himself, and prayed the Trinity. In sharp contrast to the black night the Bean Si emerged. Clinging to her was a long grey-white cloak of a cobweb nature. Her tall, thin body floated silently as her cloak drug along the gravestones she passed. Her silver-grey hair streamed to the ground. Her face was of the palest white pearl. She had eyes filled with red from centuries of crying.
Briefly Connor admired the passion the Bean Si portrayed. She was a Lady of Death whose voice blended in with the wails of the mourners, she herself weeping as she came to take the soul of their beloved. Conner then realized that he was bolted to the floor with fear. The undead spirit woman moved closer to the cottage.
As if in a rage the window shutters slammed open in the wind and the flames in the fire kindled high. Flickering shadows of darkness and light danced around the walls of Podraigs bedroom. The candle flames died as the room temperature suddenly plummeted. The Bean Si floated in wildly, illuminated by a brilliant flash of lightning. Her hands and arms were outstretched, her very presence containing the power of nature. She beckoned to Podraig, that he start his final journey on the death coach.
Podraig sat up rigidly and let out a blood-curdling scream. He extended his own arms as if to embrace her, and finally death.
Connor, still glued to the floor and shaking with fright, wished it were all over. Not that he was any expert, but he was forgetting how to say the Trinity. His fingers were shaking so much he had already slipped his grip on the rosary beads. He soothed himself with the thought that very shortly he would be a man rich with all the power as the Laird of Clougher. Connor suddenly grasped his chest as the excitement and fear riveted through his body, moaning as the pain made him delirious. In his brief moment of clarity he was even more shocked to see Father Francis beside him, kissing the sacred cloth of the Trinity and going through the ritual of the administering of Last Rites to him!! "Father... Father... It's Podraig she's a calling for... Not me, not me!" Connor screamed inside himself, trying to have the words heard but to no avail.
It was too late, Connor looked into the eyes of the solitary fairy woman and heard the keen wail of the Bean Si that pierced the night. Its notes rising and falling like the waves of the sea. Connor knew the call in his Celtic beliefs to be an announcement of a mortal's death. This was his own death; he grimaced, as he crossed himself. Now his eyes met with peace, as the Lady of Sorrow smiled on him with a love he had never known. She reached out and took his soul to travel to his ancient Celtic family of the earth.
Podraig was jubilant! He had cheated death herself! But Podraig felt a calling from his soul, awakening his life to new meaning and possibilities. Maybe the call of the Bean Si would change his future. Connor's death was his rebirth, bringing new meaning to his own life until the end of his days.
A Celtic Blessing for Death
I pray that you will have the blessing of being consoled and sure about your own death.
May you know in your soul that there is no need to be afraid.
When your time comes, may you be given every blessing and shelter that you need.
May there be a beautiful welcome for you in the home that you are going to.
You are not going somewhere strange. You are going back to the home that you never left.
May you have a wonderful urgency to live your life to the full.
May you live compassionately and creatively and transfigure everything that is negative within you and about you.
When you come to die may it be after a long life.
May you be peaceful and happy and in the presence of those who really care for you.
May your going be sheltered and your welcome assured.
May your soul smile in the embrace of your anam cara (soul friend).
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