Peace at the Grave, llvl

My Swedish sisters like to tell the stories about Deb’s funeral, which they attended, and John Johnson’s funeral, about which they’ve only heard (and gaped in astonishment!). No one dances in the aisles or blows ashes up in watermelons in Sweden… it’s a shame, really. Because lives are pretty wonderful things and should be celebrated.

But they get the courtesies right. They bring a flower to the funeral and take it forward to place it on the coffin and say thank you and goodbye to their dear friend.

And when people are dead, they visit the graves.

All my Swedish Moms are dead now. I’ve had three who really took me under their arm and one who was always generous and welcoming. Each time I arrived in a town where one of those mothers was buried, there was always an excursion to visit the grave. This is the first time I’d ever been able to visit any of these graves, except for Lorraine’s Mom…

But off we went. And it felt wonderful to be able to say Goodbye and Thank you and tenderly touch the flowers placed on the grave.

Death. It’s just one part of the journey. But the grief of losing gives way to the joy of having had, and then it’s important to tell the stories and dance and laugh. Because just like Love, and Laughter and Peace, Death is… Life is not as sweet without it.


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