It was my first time at a Jewish burial. The mourners filled in the grave. My most vivid memory is the sound of the first spade full of rough stony soil on the coffin. drub, drub drub.The dirt was shoveled in until the grave was filled and heaped on top.
It was that first drug, drub drub, on the box, that spoke to me of "finality" - a certain undeniable end...... that life was no more - for sure. And the dust flew in a great cloud surrounding everyone.
Sally had two children in the Children's Home - both in their very early teens - Carol and Dirk.
The call from the hospital wan't that surprising really, considering her life journey and her present circumstances. Sally had overdosed in what was an unsuccessful suicide attempt."unconscious, critical but stable", they said, so the two children were rushed to her bedside. Sally lay looking to be asleep surrounded by pipes, tubes and equipment.
The following morning there was another hospital call. " we're sorry to tell you . Sally has just died. She gained consciousness and pulled out all the tubes and support systems" The hospital was asked to make her look good and to wait until the children arrived to say goodbye before they removed the body to the hospital morgue. Carol and Dirk were given a red rose each to lay on their mom and an opportunity to say goodbye. Again, Sally looked asleep, but this time more peaceful than the day before. hey said goodbye, covered her head with the bedsheet and were brought back to the Home. They did not cry
It was a Christian funeral. Sally was to be cremated. Carol and Dirk watched the closed coffin carried into the local church. Followed it to the front. The service was very short.. The coffin was carried out and again Carol and Dirk were accompanied as they followed it out to the awaiting hearse. Then it was all over. Nothing more.
Sally's ashes were given to her brother and his family who lived in Namibian and they took the ashes there because it was her original home. But, unsure of what to do exactly , they delayed internment and held onto the little box in their house in Namibia.
The telephone conversations between the uncle, Carol and Dirk helped to confused them." Your mother is still here. 'We still have your mother she is here in Namibia". "Your mother is in our house we will look after her until you come."
For Carol and Dirk, there was no death.Mom was never dead. She was always just sleeping. What was inside that coffin in and out that day, well it just wasn't a dead mother. Sally was alive and in Namibia. Nothing would convince them otherwise. The only thing we could do was to retrieve the ashes and work out a rite for those two children that would allow them to experience mom as physically gone . Dirk and Carol cried for the first time that day. They had to put their denial behind them.
There is something very valuable and useful in the traditional African was of dealing with death, mourning and burial. The week of being allowed to grieve, the all night vigil with the body present, open coffin viewing and a burial with the whole community present. All this, with the whole community supporting the principal mourners with community singing that is encouraging and joyful. The blanket over the coffin dulls that drub, drub drub..... Yet somehow there is a sense of delivery... a rite of passage to a new continued life. No denial, no dilemma but delivery.
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