Nowhere else to go
I mean, I could probably open another Tumblr and start musing about paganosity there, but this place already exists. So I'll do it here instead.
Today, I went out to Maple Hill Cemetery and ask the nice lady who worked at the office there if she would be so kind as to show me where my youngest oldest brother in law's grave is. Norman lived maybe 24 hours maybe? But because of him, we learned that my father-in-law was the kind of man who would happily raise any child put in his vicinity. And because he was that kind of man, my husband was raised to be that kind of man also, which means that my son gets an actual father instead of... Adam.
So I dusted off his headstone and put down the bouquet of flowers that I made last year when I went out looking for his Stone myself. And out of the pegany bit. On the drive-in I started being able to feel Maple Hill Cemetery at about Bob Wallace Avenue. Okay, I thought, and as if praying addressed the next thought to the looming weight of the cemetery in front of me:
" Maple Hill I greet you and I ask you please to guide me smoothly to Norman's stone so that I can pay my respects. And keep, please, any wandering spirit from attaching to me on the way back out? I couldn't find him last time and I wonder if that's because I hadn't asked properly for guidance, so I'm asking now if you would kindly please."
And the pressure of the cemetery stayed there and in fact got a little bit heavier as I got closer. But it was easy for me to see when I got up there, where I should turn to get to the office. And when I got to the office, the lady at the desk was the same lady I had spoken to yesterday. She already had maps printed for us, and knew exactly who I was when I walked in. So she got into her car and I got into mine, and we drove through the cemetery (much faster than I thought we should) until we got to block 106 and she pulled to a stop directly across from Norman's Stone.
And there he was--a little unassuming stone at the foot of someone's mom and dad. I brushed a little bit of dirt off. There wasn't much. And then with my keys I dug a tiny hole to put the bouquet of plastic and silk flowers in. And then I took all manner of photo so that I could find my way back next time.
Mark seems somewhere between grateful and creeped out by the fact that I bring his dead relatives flowers ever. He hasn't been to his father's grave since they put his father in it. That's just how he grieves, and how he lives. Possibly one of the things motivating me to put flowers out, and keep the graves, is a desire to be useful? Ego, anyway: I want to be the good daughter. I want to have Roots. I want to have people. Even if they're dead people. But at least a little bit of it is that it's October. I know Decoration Day is usually somewhere around Memorial Day, but early summer doesn't feel like the time to remember the people that we've lost quite as much as October does to me. So. Tis the season. And I feel more grounded for having celebrated this way.
As far as the actual disposition of Souls, I feel fairly certain that whatever Spirit would've animated Norman has since gone on for round two--at least. He only got one day here--that's barely enough to count right? So it's the question is appeasing the dead, I don't know that there's anyone left there to appease. But still. Somewhere in the world, I think there's a spirit that would have been my brother-in-law, out there walking around, a grown person. And if my quiet Memorial brings that person some little glow of joy and well-being just at random, that idea makes me really happy and really hopeful.
And who knows, maybe Gene is likewise. Maybe somewhere in the world is a kid, or even a person my age, depending on how fast Gene resurfaced, who gets a little ... A little buzz when I go and sit at my father-in-law's grave. I love the idea that blessing the ancestors is also to some extent tending each other's fire.
I finally have a pagan group of friends, and we have a group chat. But one of the older members of the group tends to be the kind of guy who thinks that people doing kindnesses to him are trying to rub it in his face that he needed help. So I don't feel 100% confident in making these musings to them.
To be perfectly honest, I still feel weird talking about my Pagan bits out loud in public. It's easier just to yell at Christianity constantly. So it goes.
Today, I went out to Maple Hill Cemetery and ask the nice lady who worked at the office there if she would be so kind as to show me where my youngest oldest brother in law's grave is. Norman lived maybe 24 hours maybe? But because of him, we learned that my father-in-law was the kind of man who would happily raise any child put in his vicinity. And because he was that kind of man, my husband was raised to be that kind of man also, which means that my son gets an actual father instead of... Adam.
So I dusted off his headstone and put down the bouquet of flowers that I made last year when I went out looking for his Stone myself. And out of the pegany bit. On the drive-in I started being able to feel Maple Hill Cemetery at about Bob Wallace Avenue. Okay, I thought, and as if praying addressed the next thought to the looming weight of the cemetery in front of me:
" Maple Hill I greet you and I ask you please to guide me smoothly to Norman's stone so that I can pay my respects. And keep, please, any wandering spirit from attaching to me on the way back out? I couldn't find him last time and I wonder if that's because I hadn't asked properly for guidance, so I'm asking now if you would kindly please."
And the pressure of the cemetery stayed there and in fact got a little bit heavier as I got closer. But it was easy for me to see when I got up there, where I should turn to get to the office. And when I got to the office, the lady at the desk was the same lady I had spoken to yesterday. She already had maps printed for us, and knew exactly who I was when I walked in. So she got into her car and I got into mine, and we drove through the cemetery (much faster than I thought we should) until we got to block 106 and she pulled to a stop directly across from Norman's Stone.
And there he was--a little unassuming stone at the foot of someone's mom and dad. I brushed a little bit of dirt off. There wasn't much. And then with my keys I dug a tiny hole to put the bouquet of plastic and silk flowers in. And then I took all manner of photo so that I could find my way back next time.
Mark seems somewhere between grateful and creeped out by the fact that I bring his dead relatives flowers ever. He hasn't been to his father's grave since they put his father in it. That's just how he grieves, and how he lives. Possibly one of the things motivating me to put flowers out, and keep the graves, is a desire to be useful? Ego, anyway: I want to be the good daughter. I want to have Roots. I want to have people. Even if they're dead people. But at least a little bit of it is that it's October. I know Decoration Day is usually somewhere around Memorial Day, but early summer doesn't feel like the time to remember the people that we've lost quite as much as October does to me. So. Tis the season. And I feel more grounded for having celebrated this way.
As far as the actual disposition of Souls, I feel fairly certain that whatever Spirit would've animated Norman has since gone on for round two--at least. He only got one day here--that's barely enough to count right? So it's the question is appeasing the dead, I don't know that there's anyone left there to appease. But still. Somewhere in the world, I think there's a spirit that would have been my brother-in-law, out there walking around, a grown person. And if my quiet Memorial brings that person some little glow of joy and well-being just at random, that idea makes me really happy and really hopeful.
And who knows, maybe Gene is likewise. Maybe somewhere in the world is a kid, or even a person my age, depending on how fast Gene resurfaced, who gets a little ... A little buzz when I go and sit at my father-in-law's grave. I love the idea that blessing the ancestors is also to some extent tending each other's fire.
I finally have a pagan group of friends, and we have a group chat. But one of the older members of the group tends to be the kind of guy who thinks that people doing kindnesses to him are trying to rub it in his face that he needed help. So I don't feel 100% confident in making these musings to them.
To be perfectly honest, I still feel weird talking about my Pagan bits out loud in public. It's easier just to yell at Christianity constantly. So it goes.