Last Homecoming — Babas Bench

Although we have been gone for many years, we share a very special bond with our island and each other. We maintain our culture that was handed down to us by our parents and grandparents to the best of our abilities. For those of us who left for other shores, we come back, usually in summer, to our first homes, our Croatian homes. Most of the houses have been updated with all the amenities of modern homes, but their foundations are solid with memories of the past. In the summers when our children and grandchildren visit they enjoy long beach days and fishing trips, but there is something much greater being offered to them.

Some things you can schedule for the kids, like arriving in time for your local feast day, but some things you can’t plan. Sometimes it is those unexpected moments, not all of them easy, that teach our children the values and the worth of our Croatian culture. This summer, we said goodbye to a dear friend, a noble man, and although our own grandchildren had just left the island, there were other children there, and what they witnessed was rare and hard, and beautiful in its own very powerful way.

The Last Homecoming at the riva. — The Last Homecoming at the *riva.*

As it is customary when someone from the island dies anywhere in the world, not just in town, we ring the bell to announce it. This summer we had just that happen. The news was that Jozo died in the United States. We were all very saddened by the news, because no one is ever ready to lose such a person. As the bells rang for him, we knew as a village, a part of us was suddenly gone. As memories of him came to mind, so did memories of hearing those bells before, for others we lost. Then of course there are the bells we didn’t get to hear, because we were away somewhere far. That is just some of what you think of when those last bells ring in such a small town.

Last Wish

Jozo’s wish was that when he died his family would bring him back home to the island to be buried.He arrived some days later accompanied by family from wife to grandchildren. As is our custom since years ago, the funeral was going to be the following day. Text messages and phone calls, conversations along our main street all spread the news that Jozo was on his way. Through modern technologies and old fashioned talks we knew the day, the hour, and kept each other informed. That evening everyone prepared to meet him and the family on the dock. He had come home every summer for many years, but this is his last homecoming and he was honored. For being kind, for being one of the group, for caring for the church and for caring with his wife for others so many times and in so many ways, Jozo came home to a traditional greeting.

The church bell started to ring again, when the boat carrying Jozo was in view. Quietly people appeared from all sides of town. Normally chatty as villagers tend to be, we stopped whatever we were doing in our busy lives, and took a moment to become quiet together. Children were silent and followed their elders, hands were held in prayer by all. Everyone came as they were to tend to a most important and special event.

We headed down to the dock to meet him and his family, to make sure that respect was felt in presence, in numbers. Once the casket was unloaded, the family beside him, he was slowly wheeled up the hill to his house. Two by two, in silence, we all followed. Casual tourists paid their respects by bowing their heads and removing hats as we passed. Once we reached the house the bell went silent.

He was laid out in his home as has been our tradition for generations. Rosemary branches dipped in holy water were used to sprinkle the casket by each one of us as we greeted his body, and prayed for his spirit. As it is our custom, a vigil was kept by the casket all through the night by volunteers..

Ana going to receive her husband

Photo courtesy Donna Vidulich

Photo courtesy of Donna Vidulich

Photo courtesy of Donna Vidulich

The next day, before the funeral, we all headed up to the house to accompany him and the family to the church. The sad and somber sound of the funeral bell accompanied us all. In our small town we don’t have cars, so we walk together. In cases like this last homecoming it gives us time to feel the bells, to link our present sadness to our past, to the reality that all life does pass. On walks like that one we are humbled by our shared tears, and by a widow’s singular grief.

Amazing Grace

The ceremony was beautiful. As his granddaughter spoke of who Jozo was to the family, it was very clear that on top of it all, his love for his home and his people was passed on to his children and grandchildren. His granddaughter, who had been in this church with him many times, recalled a man who lived with love for God and others in his heart. She spoke of a man who was always himself whether he was in New York running a business or in our small town, enjoying the fishing, the quiet nights by the sea.

After the ceremony, it was time to accompany Jozo on one last trip, to his resting place on the very next island, across the inlet. Unlike most other places in the world our cemetery is on our neighboring island, which means you get one last trip on a boat. We aren’t fully sure why we do it like this, but we do and we cherish our tradition. On our island we usually learned to swim at the same time we learned to walk. We would learn to row a boat and tie a line as if it were natural. So it makes sense to us that when we die, we go “priko” which means we go “across.” We go to the island where there is the most peace, and where we can be visited by our loved ones.

The casket was transported by an old wooden boat that is dear to all of us, as it is a boat that we all have been passengers of, at one time or another. It is a boat of another time, and that too, links us to our history to the days when a “gaeta” was not hard to spot. Today people come to our town on luxury sailboats and yachts, and although they are nice, that kind of boat, with all that personal and traditional history, was the perfect, most loving way for this dear man to be carried across.

The bell sounded the funeral sounds one more time. People loaded up on additional boats, and followed the gaeta two by two. We carried candles and flowers to put on our family graves. It was time to remember all that have gone and are resting up in the cemetery and throughout many cemeteries scattered in far lands. The water was absolutely still. The sun was clear and strong. Each boat captain came to dock seamlessly with ropes going up to be tied as quickly as they were thrown.

Jozo was laid to rest in his family grave, next to his parents and sister. There at his side we sang, and we prayed and once again we were given the time to say a personal goodbye. In island affairs we do not rush these important events, because they are the fabric of our lives. To be there for Jozo on that summer day was a privilege, something to be remembered. It is an honor to sing for someone’s life. It is an honor to pray for a loved one and to share your voice with those who will miss that person the most.

Village to Priko

Photos by Ervin Raguzin

Life well lived Jozo, and may you rest in peace.

We left the cemetery and had lunch as a community. Then as per our custom we prayed the rosary at Jozos house for three evenings. Inside the house sat his closest family, outside sat the rest of us. We prayed as we were taught, to include all his lost loved ones; his parents, his sister, the daughter he lost when she was still a young mother. For each of them we prayed in a way that is both universal and unique to us. We pray the prayers from the standard Catholic books, but apparently our style of repetition, the way we do it is not like most other places. We never knew that of course, until we traveled away and saw other versions.

What is the same for us and most other Croatians, is first we pray and then we chat. With refreshments being handed out by the family we broke into conversations about this beloved man and his life. We shared memories and we created some new ones together, commenting on the sweets and the weather, and things we can’t tell you because you had to be there. I think that at the end of the three days, after a hundred invocations of the blessing for the dead, plus more we had said a proper goodbye to Jozo.

We sent him off to his eternal life in the style he cherished, offering him the same love and reverence he upheld all his life. May he always live with that Eternal Light, and may our descendants appreciate and learn from these moments when we interrupt summer vacation for something more valuable than another perfect beach day. May they realize that it is these moments of prayer and care for each other that make those days possible, because it is from these traditions that we have grown our strength.