Honoring the Dead

Yesterday’s crystalline blue skies and warm temperatures have been swept away. The sky is lint covered, the wind whips the leaves along the streets, and the forecasters are predicting cold weather beginning tomorrow.

Walking down a cottonwood-lined lane early this morning, I notice all the cars at the small cemetery there. For the last few days, Belgians have devoted considerable time to visiting and tending the graves of their loved ones. While Americans create false graveyards, hang skeletons, and dress as ghosts and zombies for Halloween, Belgians honor the dead.

Tomorrow is All Souls Day (sometimes called All Saints Day) and it is a national holiday here, a day to remember the dead. At the cemetery, I’ve seen families washing headstones, children placing enormous containers of mums on graves, and memorabilia being added to others.

During an earlier walk, I noticed the grave of a child in the cemetery. Only a year old, her mischievous face grins from a photo set in her headstone. I always pray for her family when I come here. Today they have covered her grave in white mums and placed a ceramic teddy bear there. At another grave, that of a young man who died in his early 20s, someone comes by and leaves cans of unopened Lipton’s Ice Tea. Mostly though, people leave yellow and red mums planted in containers on the graves, so the entire cemetery is washed in color.

In the U.S., Southerners were renowned for the way they tended family graves through generations. It’s sad that as our families broke apart, both socially and geographically, family plots and grave yards disappeared and so did the rituals of honoring the dead. 

My parents never took me to a cemetery. I don’t know where my grandparents are buried. My sister is buried on Long Island somewhere. I have never visited her grave. She died of cancer when I was in college in Virginia. I left school to go to her funeral but never made it back to the cemetery after that, in part because I got married and moved to Oklahoma months later.

When I was going through my parents’ photo collection after their deaths, I found a photo of her snow-covered grave decorated with greenery and a red bow. A German friend of my mother’s had gone to the grave on my mother’s behalf at Christmas, and I can’t express what that gesture meant to me when I learned of it all those years later. I cherish those photos, even if I can't bear to view them.

My parents are buried in a town that’s a three-hour drive from my home in Virginia. The first year after they died, I visited their graves every time I was in the area, several times a year. I haven’t been to the cemetery in years, and that’s sad. Why do we invest emotionally and financially in burying the dead and marking their resting places and then never visit the memorials we create and pay for? Does closure mean walking away and never coming back?

Maybe my experience isn’t typical. Do any of you regularly visit the graves of loved ones and relatives? Do you bring your children? Is there a ritual or tradition associated with those visits?

October 31, 2006

Copyright 2006 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved. www.v-grrrl.com

Comments

[Ortizzle]

I think part of the idea of visiting the cemetery or not does have to do with the fact that many of us are simply not close enough geographically. But I think there are a couple of other reasons, too: Americans tend to worry about what others will think if we don't put on a decent funeral, but less about going regularly to visit the grave because it reminds us not only of those who have died, but of our own mortality. And we are the ultimate masters of illusion, always avoiding the painful things in life that we have no control over. We honor the deceased in tributes or memorial fund-raising foundations, but for many people, actually going to the cemetery is too close to the harsh reality. I know there are still a lot of people who do visit the grave sites of loved ones, but for many more it is perceived as a crude reality we would rather avoid. Personally, I believe in cremation and scattering the ashes over a place that meant a lot to the person. But that's just me.

[Shirl Grrrl]

I love visiting cemeteries and wish that I was closer to my ancestors. I love the way that the Moravians celebrate their dead on Easter Sunday. Before Easter, the markers are cleaned and flowers brought so that God's Acre is a sea of color. After the sunrise service, the brass band leads worshipers through the town to God's Acre. It's been done for 100s of years. I had always wanted to go, but never made the 1.5 hour trip. I will do it one day, however. My mother wants to be cremated and that is perfectly fitting for her. She wants to be scattered somewhere in her beloved woods or flower beds. She wasn't named Sylvia for nothing!

[V-Grrrl]

I remember hearing a sermon given by my former priest Debby where she said a traditional Christian church cemetery is laid out so that the headstones face East. This is a nod to the belief that when Jesus comes to resurrect the dead, He will come from the East.

I like the idea of cremation, for myself and for E, but I've thought if I ever had to bury a child (God forbid), I'd want a grave and a marker and a place to visit and mourn.

[TB]

I've never visited my mother's grave because to me, she is not there. I honor her life rather than her death in other ways.
Jeff's parents visit the graves of his grandparents for Christmas every year, bringing flowers and having a moment of silence. I went with them last year and although it's not a tradition that I enjoy, it was interesting to see the way they honor their parents. Also I learned that Jeff's grandfather was named Miles and we decided then and there that if we ever had a son, that would be his name. It seems fitting that it was in his house that we became pregnant with this child.

[V-Grrrl]

Teebs,

I find it interesting they visit the grave on Christmas. Perhaps that's the day they miss them the most.

If I had to choose a specific day to visit my parents' graves, it would be my birthday. That's the day I feel their loss most keenly--the beginning that reminds me now only of the end.

[Shirley]

Interestingly enough, I love cemeteries too, but not usually the ones any of my family are buried in. We have happened upon cemeteries when hiking and on trips and I have found them fascinating. We have even sought out old cemeteries upon occasion. There was actually a slave cemetery not far from a house we rented previously. It had been relocated due to a road being rerouted many years before and you could locate it primarily by the periwinkle on either side of the road. Then you saw the many sunken in spots, a few spire-type markers made from cedar, and, finally, a handful of small markers with printed names and dates on paper placards from the 50s and 60s, for descendants. You couldn’t help but be momentarily be transported to the time and place of their lives and be quieted in your contemplation of those times. Another cemetery that is one of my favorites is in our subdivision, from the time when it was a large estate called Willow Hill. Many of the tombstones have the willow design and are very beautiful. One that stands out in my mind was for a lieutenant in the French and Indian war. His tombstone said he had 16 children (with more than one wife, thank God). However, several of the children had died as infants or toddlers. Their tombstones were nearby—very small with little written on them. Sadly, this cemetery has been vandalized a number of times. That seems to happen too much around here. I wonder if being raised to honor All Souls Day teaches people to respect cemeteries in a way that we don’t here in the U.S. As far as my own burial, I’d prefer cremation, but my husband is not at all keen on it. The local cemetery used by most people in our area is the modern day cemetery, which is a wide open field with no church association and little personality or charm, but “guaranteed perpetual care.” My husband’s family is buried there, but we have yet to return to a gravesite after the funeral has been held. My own family is buried in various cemeteries, only one of which I like and that is not because it is beautiful in any way. It’s basically an open field, but there is a history there and a simpleness. The graves were relocated from a cemetery on land taken by the Marine Corps base. My grandparents and their children and their families can be buried there free of charge and the cemetery will be taken care of forever by the federal government—all terms of the land being taken. I don't think that's the driving force for them being buried there though ... I think they want to be together and I think there's some special feeling in regard to their land being taken and remembering that time when they were children being raised on a farm during the depression. You have written a very thought-provoking piece for me, V. Thanks so much.

[JMo]

When my grandparents died, they were placed in a mausoleum. My grandmother couldn't stand the idea of being buried. I found the whole thing rather absurd: For one, I believe the "soul" remains with those who remember the deceased, not within a corpse or the ashes. What bothered me more was the idea that the crypt would be there "forever". Its an above ground building and not the Taj Mahal or an Egyptian pyramid. We all know what eventually happend to the Pharoahs buried in giant stone mausoleums. Why do we insist on believing our graves are somehow imune to pillage and destruction?
I understand that for many people, the grave is a symbolic place that provides an anchor for the memory of the deceased. For me, its a set of drafting tools my grandfather used. I would have preferred to have one of his fishing lures as that is what I remember most about him, but the compass will do.

[Flubberwinkle]

I'm lucky that I don't have any immediate family members' graves (parents, siblings) to visit. I don't know how I will react when that dreaded time comes. I agree with Ortizzle's comment and add that not just Americans, but most people around the world "tend to worry about what others will think if we don't put on a decent funeral".

Personally, I prefer the idea of cremation for myself and my loved ones. Due to lack of space, graves in Greece are "leased" for 3 to 5 years. At the end of the "lease" the remains are exhumed and transferred to another less space-consuming spot. I've heard horror stories of corpses that "needed more time"... I don't know if I could stand to see a loved one like that, just the idea that they're slowly rotting away doesn't help me (sorry for being so morbid). Family graves can be bought but the exhumation still takes place.

I was taken to cemeteries as a child as a ritual to clean the family graves and place flowers in the marble vases. I never liked it. It felt cold and pointless and I didn't particularly like the excuse the elders gave me for this ritual: so that other people don't think we've forgotten our family. I would rather we celebrated their memories by talking about the deceased's life, accomplishments and shared moments.

[V-Grrrl]

There's an area in Mexico where the bodies aren't buried but put in above ground graves. After a time, the relatives open the graves, clean the bones, and rearrange the remains. They do this every year on a particular day (I can't remember if it's associated with All Souls Day or Easter).

That freaked me right out.

[Arabella]

You raise some very interesting questions. I seldom visit relatives' gravestones, yet I often find myself looking at strangers' headstones in historic cemeteries. Perhaps I fare better when death isn't so personal?

[Di]

You know, it's almost like I don't need to visit mum's grave because she travels with me ...

Perhaps that's how it is ... we carry them with us?

[Brenda]

We don't live close to the family cemeteries but when we are in the area, we always visit, place flowers, reminice and take pictures, like a time marker. My grandfather would have been 111 this past Sept. 11th. When my children were younger, I would take them through various cemeteries in our area and we would read the headstones. You can learn a lot.

[Brenda]

We don't live close to the family cemeteries but when we are in the area, we always visit, place flowers, reminice and take pictures, like a time marker. My grandfather would have been 111 this past Sept. 11th. When my children were younger, I would take them through various cemeteries in our area and we would read the headstones. You can learn a lot.

[Her Bad Mother]

I try to visit my grandmother's gravesite whenever I am in my hometown (other side of the country). This, sadly, is usually only every few years. I wish that I could go more frequently.

But you raise a good question. Does the site matter, really? I'm not sure. I'm comforted, in a way, by the fact that it's there. But is it necessary for my remembrance of her? Probably not.

[Wendy]

I use to go often, to see my granparents, and a friend from school that are in the same cemetary. The baby graves always make me sigh. My great aunts bought our family a WING in a mosuleum..sp??..very creepy..a plce for all of us...I knew this even as a child. My mom has always said...she wants no part of that walled existence. She wants to be in the ground. As for me, cremation seems the way to go..though I think its considered a sin in the Catholic church...Sprinlke me over a cross country course of jumps..and have the horses gallop me into the ground.

[Dan]

About closure, we carry the memories with us. I can't go to the cemetary too often because I get very depressed afterwards.