The rains and winds have come, with the occasional sunny reprieve. Saturday found me in a downpour, for a long walk to Mountain View Cemetery for a non-denominational observance for the dead called All Souls. I'd seen it advertised on posters around bus shelters, etc and having never been before I thought I'd check it out. Like Christmas, I like my holidays to have more tradition/substance that the commercialized candy-coated stuff that's so easily accessible yet leaves me empty-hearted.
The premise here seemed simple; light a candle, leave a flower. The organizers had set up several temporary shrines around the vast grounds, the wind billowing the fabric walls and menacing the tenacious candles. The first (and permanent) structure the little pathway lanterns led me to was a Chinese shrine, where we were welcome to light incense for the dead by an alter with oranges, and pork and chicken covered in plastic. A trio of women sang a beautiful ancient song from a German abbotrice in the 12th century...? It seemed fitting and didn't contrast at all. A smart visitor standing behind me brought a thermos of mulled wine which mingled with the scent of incense.
Following little lanterns that the wind was extinguishing I found more shrines, similar yet each different. One was manned by a woman pouring herbal tea made from herbs associated with healing medicine, I was glad for the hot drink. This was the shrine for infants or stillborn babes, near a 'dry creek bed with a stone for each child' made in 2006.
More shrines leading up to the Mandarin Hall, a warm bright building that offered more tea and cookies as I entered, and several tables were set up with craft materials to decorate and personalize paper inserts for glass candle holders. All this while I've been made aware that death has touched me so lightly and seldom, so I wrote a general prayer for everyone, living and dead that they may find peace. Warmed with tea and satisfied with my offering, I left it in a shrine I liked best for no particular reason, and was told the event organizers would keep the candles lit till Halloween, then burn all the messages in ritual and reuse the glassware for next year.
Few people I know have died. One grandparent, when I was a child and wasn't really invited to participate in mourning. A friend I'd been chatting on forums with awhile, who I haven't met in person. And two dead pet rabbits, one I knew for only a night and another for seven years. I refrained from keeping living persons too close in heart that evening, lest my thoughts lump them in with the dead.
That afternoon my friend had captured a Northern Flicker that he'd seen previously having trouble perching to feed upright, and brought it into the wildlife rescue shelter for assessment and care. I found out today that they'd assessed it wouldn't recover from the compound fracture of its leg likely sustained from a collision with a car, and thus put it to sleep. I feel quite conflicted about that, which is what finally spurred me to write tonight; on one hand a wild animal would have drastically different demands than a domestic pet, and the rescue workers probably thought they were doing him a favour by making that decision for him. On the other hand, I know my friend would care well for the crippled bird for the rest of its life, and when it eventually died sooner or later it would be comfortable in its own territory with its mate likely in the yard nearby. I suppose this is an age-old question on palliative care, and it's easy to anthropomorphize animals we care about, and difficult to make decisions for those who cannot speak for themselves about their suffering.May those that have gone before find respite from their suffering and peace the cumulative joys in their life.
May those that remain be grateful for the time they have left.
