Of souls and cemeteries
CULTURE CUL DE SAC By JACQUELINE PEREIRA
http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=%2F2011%2F11%2F6%2Flifefocus%2F9824217&sec=lifefocus
Visiting the resting places of departed loved ones can help us to know where we come from and can clear our minds to chart where we are heading. FIFTEEN years ago, I was told that it was an inappropriate photo. But I liked it because I had taken that picture of my grandmother in the midst of a giggle, her bright eyes twinkling behind thick glasses. That is how I wanted to remember her, so I suggested the photo for her headstone. And that was the picture we saw last weekend when we visited her grave. She is buried in a small cemetery an hour’s drive from Kuala Lumpur, located at the edge of a rubber estate. Although it is next to a busy main road, a pleasing peace always prevails over the clearing. The Saturday before last, a soft breeze blew and dappled sunshine danced through the foliage. We cleaned the ground around her memorial, placed orchids, and lit candles and incense sticks. Our older group members sang hymns and prayed in honour of their mother, as they have done for 15 years past. Yet it is only in the last few years that this annual ritual has, for me, become necessary.
But for countless others, all around the world, respecting the dead is an age-old custom. Mexicans have their Day of the Dead, Chinese celebrate the Qing Ming festival, Catholics take their All Souls Day seriously, and Muslims usually begin Aidil Fitri celebrations with a visit to the graves of loved ones. No matter how the day is commemorated, families and friends gather foremost to pray and pay homage to their passed-on relatives. Food and beverages, memorabilia and flowers, all are laid out at specifically constructed altars or recently cleaned gravestones. Believers in Judaism place pebbles on their ancestors’ graves to symbolise their visit, and to let other visitors know that those they love are not forgotten. Someone I know still treasures the flower pod, now dried, that he picked from the earth on the day his mother’s ashes were scattered below an oak tree.
From burning fake money and paper iPads to garlanding photographs and buying new clothes to pray over, rites vary. Yet the central theme of honouring the dead is homogenous – venerating our ancestors and initiating heavenly intercessions. Sometimes, it’s also about seeking forgiveness, but very often these little ceremonies remind the living of their time left on this earth. A friend, Hasnah Hariri-Scheding, who currently lives in Canberra, crosses the oceans several times a year to sit by her father’s grave. In facing her own mortality, she finds this particular act enables her to reflect on her journey with her father, and think of the life she leads and the choices she’s made. “It crystalises my thoughts and views on what I see as important. I can only live the fullest when I face my fear of death.” She reveals: “When I visit his grave I touch his tombstone, the only tangible thing I have left to connect us. In my prayers, I offer him my loyalty and love in honour of his memory.” Wife and mother Hasnah feels more grounded, she says, after each visit, her altered perspectives allowing her the freedom to accept the joy of living in the absolute moment. “Thank God for death,” she exclaims, as life is not infinite, “that it affords us renewal in this cycle of life. Can you imagine the same over and over without an end? How scary!” She asserts, too, that it is not just duty that finds her so frequently at her father’s graveside. “I do it for both of us.” He may be deceased, but their relationship continues in her head and, she hopes, in her prayers. This ritual allows her to face death’s reality – and finality.
Living in a city where she has no connections to her past, she finds that she also needs this convention to remember her own journey. “I just didn’t get here. I came from somewhere, someone. I had a father, a family, a community….” Similarly, she hopes that, long after she passes, her son will also derive that same serenity from visiting her grave. Apart from reflecting filial piety, the simple ceremonies we partake in are channels to express emotions, or even at times to fill a spiritual void. The comfort derived from revering our dead acts as a cathartic exercise, too, in dealing with grief. A funeral offers closure for all concerned, as well as respect for the person who has just died, in honour of a life lived. In much the same manner, these sometimes maligned rites of remembrance offer those left behind a well of memories and renewed significance of that special relationship. It doesn’t matter whether we remember the dead to pay them due respect or whether we visit the graves of our loved ones to reassure ourselves. It must be a little bit of of both, and that is a good thing. It is important to know where we come from, as well as to clear our minds to chart where we are heading.
My grandmother’s life began at another time in another country. She could not have imagined then where she would lie today. Her values and ideals live on in a number of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, among whom she is remembered for her generosity. That may not be a fashionable trait to parade these days, but that’s how I always like to think of her – mid-giggle.
People, places and perceptions inspire writer Jacqueline Pereira. In this column, she rummages through cultural differences and revels in discovering similarities. Find her on Facebook at Jacqueline-Pereira-Writing-on.
