Here is something to think about as you sit down to watch the nightly news coverage of the funeral of Polish president Lech Kaczynski and his wife Maria — grief is not a monolith, flags do grow underground and Monty Python still has a place in Warsaw.

At noon on Saturday, church bells and what sounded like air-raid sirens filled the Polish capital for the third time in a week. As if frozen in time people stopped still in the street to remember the 96 Poles who died one week ago when their plane — headed to Smolensk in western Russia to commemorate the Katyn massacre of 1940 — crashed on approach.

All the victims, from the last Polish president in-exile to a vivacious looking 29-year-old flight attendant, have been depicted on large billboards here to give Varsovians a chance to absorb every face and name. At bus stops and along public causeways people could often be seen this week pausing to study those displays, as if revising for a test.

Yet as the sirens died away on Solidarnosci Avenue — where lines marking the walls of the war-time ghetto still crisscross the footpath — another unexpected salvo began. From an open window overlooking the street came the famous refrain from Monty Python’s Life of Brian: Always look on the bright side of life (do de-doo do-do do-do de-doo). And it was loud.

Loud enough to shake the walls of neighbouring flats that all week had flown the ubiquitous Polish flag topped with black ribbon. Long and incessant, chorus after chorus reverberated around the neighbourhood reminding people that at least one soul could no longer bear the heaviness encountered this week in almost every facet of public life. This grief you see, after a while it weighs you down.

One week ago I wrote about Poland as it began a week of national mourning with solemn yet “stoic” candlelight vigils in Warsaw’s Place Pilsudski. But at some point during this unique time something changed. As people’s grief grew and flowed they began to disagree about where to bury their president and so lost any trace of consensus as to what Kaczynski’s life and death might mean to this young democracy. Somewhere along the way, everything got muddled.

It all started when it was announced that at the family’s request the final resting place of Lech Kaczynski and his wife would be at Wawel Castle in Krakow. The problem was that the crypt also holds 17 monarchs and two saints, not to mention Poland’s answer to de Gaulle, Władysław Sikorski, and the man widely seen as the architect of Poland regaining its independence in 1918, Józef Pilsudski.

In other words, the pantheon of Poland’s illustrious history were about to be joined by a president who before he died in tragic circumstances was deeply unpopular, ostracising many voters with a far-right agenda aimed at purifying the nation’s past no matter the cost to the present.

And so when this incongruity went unquestioned it fell to the social networking universe to say what no politician could or would suggest publicly. Facebook groups quickly sprung up entitled “Yes to naming the national stadium after Lech Kaczynski, no to Wawel”, or the even more sardonic “Yes to burying Lech Kaczynski at the pyramids”.

All the while a week’s national mourning was reaching its zenith. Having inhabited seemingly every apartment block, government office, bus or monument, the sea of flags now began to sprout in metro stations. On Tuesday the dance teacher said the disco salsa would be played at half volume “out of respect”. On Friday plays and concerts were cancelled, with seemingly the only entertainment available an improv piano jazz concert full of moody chords and hushed applause at Warsaw’s famous Tygmont Jazz Club.

The trio that had been booked to play was cancelled. And on the Saturday of the memorial service even the Hard Rock Café strictly enforced a city-wide ban on alcohol before 6pm, turning down an innocent request for an Irish coffee.

And then to top it all off, a cloud of invisible ash from an Icelandic volcano prevented all but a few world leaders from attending today’s funeral at Wawel Castle. That leaves 94 more funerals to be held in the coming days.

One can’t help but think now that perhaps that Monty Python inspired boombox messenger was no protester at all — at least not against any man-made injustice …

For life is quite absurd
And death’s the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin — give the audience a grin
Enjoy it — it’s your last chance anyhow.