Original post: Dušičky
I
open the gate and enter. The sun is low above the horizon, still surprisingly
warm for November, but the air is cold, and you can sense in it that frost is
just waiting for the sun to set. It doesn't have to wait long. The last rays
take the heat with them. Sun hurries away as if it knows it doesn't belong
here. I hide my hands shiveringly in my pockets. I step up slowly, wet clay
sticking to my shoes.
Autumn weather belongs to this time
of year when we remember the souls that passed away. It sets the mood and helps
to immerse us into ourselves. But most of all, it enables us to perceive the
graves covered with candles and wreaths more intensely. Autumn is a symbol of
change, and tombs are symbols of one of the most significant changes a person goes
through. However, this change is often painful. The transition from one life to
another can be devastating if one does not know how to meet it, does not
understand it, resists it, fears it.
I light a candle protecting the
flame from starving wind with my hands. Then I hide it in a lantern. The
dancing flame settles there. I get a little teary-eyed as I look at
all those graves. Who knows where they wander now. I remember their
journey on earth. Each seems significant to me.
Some passed prematurely. Other
grassy graves without candles and wreaths indicate that people had already
forgotten them. But only people. Because nothing is lost in Creation. Their
lives like threads, perhaps twisted and knotted somewhere, are waiting to be
completed and unraveled; and stand equally beside all other threads.
There are new, fresh graves here. They
seem surprised that they suddenly appeared in the cemetery, standing a little
uncertain, without a proper tombstone, only enclosed with planks. They have to
get used to being here at all, they have to grow into the ground. What a sadly
accurate picture of people. The living and the dead. Those who stand around
such a grave, uncertain and taken aback, as well as those for whom that
grave has been dug and stand on the other side of the river. All of them are
waiting for the time to ripen and asking: What now?
And time ripens. Hastily made graves
change, get a real tombstone and seem to belong here. The people (hopefully) make
their way slowly forwards too and learn to live anew.
Then there is another type of grave
that looks out of place. Actually, they are not graves yet, only empty shells. Concrete
tombstones with name and date of birth. They also look a little uncertain that
they are decaying, cracking, overgrowing with grass, while their time has not
come yet. Also an image of people. Trying not to be surprised by death. At
least physically. The problem is that such graves, when finally filled, look
too much as if a person, even if only recently buried, has been lying there for
a very long time...
Traditionally, I light one candle
for us living as well. After all, we are all on the same boat, no matter which
side of the river we are standing. For us living, so that we don't rush to the
grave when we don't belong to it yet. And that we do not live so that death
surprises us. And most importantly, wherever we are, so that we never lose
sight of our goal and have the courage and strength to keep moving forward. And
upwards, to the Light.
© Ludmila
