Looking at the abundance of homemade tree ornaments filling up the storage bins, I realize my zeal has resulted in too many "things on strings" for the tree. It's time to cull the herd of crafts, as it were. And yet, as odd as it sounds, it's a struggle. I thought about other things as strong symbols as I read a front page item in the Sunday NYTimes regarding what the town of Newtown CT is doing with its many memorials to the sweet lives lost in December. The items carry more than memories - they embody the desire to hold up those lives as important. They also give people a place to grieve. http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/06/nyregion/as-memorials-pile-up-newtown-struggles-to-move-on.html
Grief has a clear beginning but where it ends, if it ever ends, is vague at best.
Officials in Newtown CT began the process of removing the most elaborate memorials a couple of weeks following the shooting. The town's selectwoman, Patricia Llodra, waded into those delicate waters with sensitivity and focus. The community was alerted by phone about the removals. Plans have been made to process organic materials into "sacred soil" in a future memorial. Stuffed animals and other inorganic materials will be processed into bricks for use in constructing a tribute.
Families of those killed were given police protected time to visit the memorials privately. Then, in the middle of the night, items were removed.
Practical reasons like harsh winter weather pummeling the memorial items, rendering
them as sad reminders instead of sweet honor guards, along with traffic issues moved town officials to take some action. I applaud the light, thoughtful touch this effort is being given.
Grief's path is marked by infinitesimal movement. The term "moving on" is often used and perhaps this is Newtown's effort to do so. I'd like to think it is more of a way to simply move regardless of direction.
My friend Linda, whose 22 year old son died in May, recently shared one of the things she realized during this past difficult holiday, "I believe I can survive my grief. I'm learning to move through it." I relish her awareness. We don't so much get over or under grief, but if we can come out on the other side of it, we learn how capable we are. If and how we do this is where the work of love takes place.
There is a local roadside memorial to a young woman named Aimee that I used to pass each Saturday when I drove home from taking my daughter to dance class in the city. (It sits along the southbound on ramp to Rte. 1 as you exit Rte. 476 in Springfield PA) It marks the spot where this young woman was brutally abducted; she was later found murdered in a North Philly lot. It has had various incarnations over the years with signs and symbols but they are mostly all gone. Someone planted a tree in her honor and it flourishes. I think of her every time I pass that spot. I hope those who loved her are also flourishing.
It's not the spot where someone dies that contains meaning about their life; that singular spot is the place where we started grieving. If we can learn to give our focus to how we loved their lives, then perhaps the place where they died receives a more balanced treatment.
My grandparents died in 1979. The cemetery was near my home so I would stop by their gravesite to have some silent time with them. Once I moved away a few years later, those visits ended. I think the last time I was at their gravesite was at their son's burial in 2001. I think I've learned to spend silent time with them in other ways.
The Bible says it well but Pete Seeger's lyrics sung by the Byrds adapted it best: "To everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) And a time to every purpose, under Heaven."
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 King James Version
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Postscript: The topic of roadside memorials which mostly honor those where they died in traffic accidents is addressed in a 2009 documentary. Here is a clip from that film.
