Death and remembrance
On the bus today, while reading The Namesake, I wondered about how we process the deaths of those we know. Or those we know about, who've maybe impacted us one way or another. I wondered about how grieving manifests and evolves within different cultures and communities. How that process is impacted by displacement and diaspora. How the grieving 'practice' in America is put into a package-from bereavement policies at the workplace, to options A, B, or C at the mortuary, to advanced-purchase burial plots at the cemetery. How announcements and obituaries have found their way to myspace bulletins and blog posts.
2007 has been a year of lost ones. Bill Sorro, Bree Gutu, Sean Taylor, and Pimp C, among others. Not to mention some of the 900+ (I'm losing count) victims of political killings in the Philippines. We remember and honor each of these people in different ways. Bree had a huge and long and food-filled Samoan ceremony. Sean Taylor has his jersey number on the backs of many players' helmets all over the NFL. Pimp C is getting love all over the internet. We remember the victims of political killings through community events and campaigns and petitions.
Bill Sorro. Bill was different. And quite specific about this: No funerals, no viewings, no obituaries. As the saying goes, "Don't mourn, ORGANIZE." He didn't want to be celebrated in death. He didn't want folks to be distracted from the work. In a way, it left some people feeling a little empty, like we didn't have a place and a time to grieve. But I think it also made us stronger. Forced us to move on. Challenged us to be revolutionaries. Perhaps it isn't such a bad concept.
In a way, I feel like I am most present after the loss of a friend. I'm always checking in with-and perhaps even judging-my own emotions. I'm always asking myself if there's more I could be doing to express my grief. Constantly questioning these ceremonies and ways we remember the dead. Wondering where my tears are coming from. The conclusion I've come to, for myself, is that grieving should come without judgement, remembrance should come without expectations, and that we honor those who've left us by how we apply the lessons they taught us. And maybe a candle or some burnt sage every now and then.
2007 has been a year of lost ones. Bill Sorro, Bree Gutu, Sean Taylor, and Pimp C, among others. Not to mention some of the 900+ (I'm losing count) victims of political killings in the Philippines. We remember and honor each of these people in different ways. Bree had a huge and long and food-filled Samoan ceremony. Sean Taylor has his jersey number on the backs of many players' helmets all over the NFL. Pimp C is getting love all over the internet. We remember the victims of political killings through community events and campaigns and petitions.
Bill Sorro. Bill was different. And quite specific about this: No funerals, no viewings, no obituaries. As the saying goes, "Don't mourn, ORGANIZE." He didn't want to be celebrated in death. He didn't want folks to be distracted from the work. In a way, it left some people feeling a little empty, like we didn't have a place and a time to grieve. But I think it also made us stronger. Forced us to move on. Challenged us to be revolutionaries. Perhaps it isn't such a bad concept.
In a way, I feel like I am most present after the loss of a friend. I'm always checking in with-and perhaps even judging-my own emotions. I'm always asking myself if there's more I could be doing to express my grief. Constantly questioning these ceremonies and ways we remember the dead. Wondering where my tears are coming from. The conclusion I've come to, for myself, is that grieving should come without judgement, remembrance should come without expectations, and that we honor those who've left us by how we apply the lessons they taught us. And maybe a candle or some burnt sage every now and then.