Ashes or bones, Gomes?
I used to think that I’d prefer to be cremated, you know?
nothing left behind.
ashes scattered, dust to dust and all of that jazz
because I was only thinking about myself (the dead one) and what I want.
(my strictly Roman Catholic Family would have a fit)
then I thought about the cycles of grief; they’re like waves, they keep coming in to our shores and with time we adapt to them the way people with waterfront property do
besides, we’re human, grief can never be a stranger.
we’re constantly reacquainted at various points in our lives
sometimes over and over again for different reasons (people, situations, experiences, relationships)
sometimes over and over again for that one singular reason
sometimes grief becomes a part of you
and sometimes you need it to be separate
like setting up a folding table in the other room so you can balance your work from home life and your home-home life
then I thought about the countless monthly visits I made to the cemetery (pre-pandemic) over the past 15 years, you know, once I was old enough to go on my own
I remember being distinctly aware of the relief
the relief of being able to visit at the very moment that I need to be there the most
“there” being the place (literally/ geographically and emotionally) where I was closest to my loss
the comfort, the closure
all of it comes when you’ve had enough time
and it will NEVER be at a pace that other people are comfortable with
(and I will never get over how much discomfort it causes people when they hear that you are “still” grieving)
that is why cemeteries are important
they’re not just a resting place for our dead
they’re a place for the ones left behind
to return to until they’ve learned to live with grief in harmony
however long that takes
again, when you’ve had enough time
time spent mourning properly
properly being whatever manner it takes for you to live through it with it around it, depending on the frame of mind you’re in, at any given moment
I’ve found, for me at least, having a place to go helped
ghosts or the idea of ghosts in graveyards never scared me because I haven’t seen one
let me be clear
I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ONE EITHER
(in caps in case they’re reading)
they can exist or not, it’s fine, I do not want to know
I mean I’ve had that feeling, you know, when your back is turned and someone walks up to you and you can feel their presence but you can only confirm it once you’ve turned around and seen them or they’ve said something or they’ve reached out and touched you
multiple times I’ve had that feeling and it has scared me, I won’t lie
the unknown always does that, doesn’t it?
anywho, my point is
I don’t associate graveyards with what folklore or the entertainment industry has conditioned us to expect/ believe
all I know is that my mother is there, my godfather is in one, both, my grandad and my phu(grandfather) are in them, so are my other grandmothers, my aunts and uncles and cousin
all people that I love and by whom I was loved in return
nothing scary about that.
a resting place is all that a graveyard is.
and it helped me to have someplace to go
just maybe, I won’t ask to be cremated after all
unless, you know, the plague gets me and I no longer have a say in the matter
cremation it is
since we’re here I might as well tell you
when I die
don’t wear black or “funeral-appropriate-attire”
wear whatever you want to
brighter than sunshine or morticia addams black
just maybe bring me a flower
if you feel like it
especially if you don’t feel like it DON’T DO IT
also don’t come to the funeral if you don’t want to, honestly no hard feelings, I promise not to haunt you (introvert to the grave and beyond lol)
I should stop here
more about what creature I want to come back as, in the next post
not come back-come back
just visitations you know
I’ll think about it