Three grave sites and a burial

October 25, 2014
Day 178

This morning, Andy and I accompanied his Aunt Lydia, cousins Ferdi and Joe, as well as some other close family members, to Pinelawn Cemetery on Long Island.  Uncle Fai's ashes were ready today for burial, just over a week after his funeral.

As we walked over to the grave site, where a small tent was erected and some chairs put out for us, I watched as another burial took place nearby.  There, just down a small path from us, a large group of approximately 100 mourners had gathered to pay their final respects to their own loved one.  I wondered who the person might be, and thought about the people who'd died in the ICU before Fai did.  Could this be one of those?  Someone we knew from the ICU?  Chances are, they weren't related at all, and the mourners were all complete strangers.  Still, they didn't feel like strangers to me.  I felt a spiritual kinship with them, even from across the graves.

After we laid Fai to rest, as the saying goes, we traveled to another part of the cemetery to pay our respects to the grave of Andy's maternal grandmother, Eileen Chong.  Though she died 11 years ago this past February, I felt a beautiful connection today.  Eileen's son Fai was dead in this life now too, and his body buried not so far away from hers.

And then, after saying goodbye to Andy's family members, Andy and I drove over to St. Charles Cemetery, to visit briefly with my mom and dad at their grave site.  I don't go to graves every year on special anniversaries usually, with some exceptions at times, but try to go now and then when I can, to set aside some special time to talk with my loved ones in Heaven.

All of these graves and all of these people mean something unique to both Andy and me.  Even though I never met Andy's grandmother, and he never met my father, we honor the special part each one played in the life of the other.  We also honor, I believe, the mystery of death itself.  We talk to our loved ones with the hope, if not faith that they can still hear us and sympathize with the struggles we face.  We honor the mystery by honoring their place of burial, by speaking some words of honor and respect at their grave, and allowing the mystery of what happens when we die to blow past us as the wind blows.

Across the way from where Fai was buried this morning, another burial was taking place.  And all across the cemeteries we visited, other bodies or ashes were being brought there to be lowered into the ground.  We didn't know all the people coming in and out of the cemetery at the same time as us, and they don't know us either, but I take comfort in knowing that somehow, we are all connected.  We may feel we're connected because of death, but really, it's because we're still living, and not just living, but living with the mystery, too.  As we cry for our loved ones who have died, we also feel a spiritual kinship with them, even from across the grave.