We recently cleared the 30 day mark of lockdown in New York.
This week ten of my friends lost family members to covid-19. Any funerals or
memorial or wakes or celebrations of life will have to wait until it is safe to
gather. And that’s okay. It has to be. This is how the world is right now and
we want to keep the losses to a minimum.
That said, grieving alone is hard. And it sucks when you can’t
gather with everyone else who will miss them, too.
*
In January of 2004 two of my best family friends passed
within two weeks, both extremely unexpected and sorrowful. I remember my dad’s
tearful phone call when he begged me not to try to come home for the funerals. I
know it upset him to have to say those words to me but we were in the midst of
some really horrid ice storms and I lived across the state. He said he couldn’t
bear the thought of having to go to three funerals.
So I stayed home. It needed to be done.
I didn’t get to be there with my loved ones. No one else in
my town knew the men I was grieving. I didn’t realize how much that mattered to
me.
*
Part of the funeral or celebration of life is for the deceased,
for seeing the sacred temple that housed their spirit to rest in whatever
manner they wished. The other part of the event is to serve as another temple
in its own right, for those who loved the dead and are sad to gather to share
in that so that for an hour or two, no one has to be alone with it. It’s acceptable
to be publicly sad.
Grief is given safe space. We become an island together in
an ocean of sorrow. No one feels adrift in it.
And the funerals that cannot be held right now will come.
That doesn’t mean that we can’t honor the dead on our own, from the sacred
space of our homes, our hearths. We can honor who they were to us and wish
their spirits peace.
We grieve because we loved them. So it is right that the
answer to grief is also love.
*
This is the ritual I do. Use it as a template. Use it as a
starting point. This is about creating ritual for yourself and for your heart.
You are the only one who knows what you need.
[When you’re ready...]
Call your ancestors in. You don’t need to know their names. Ask
them to stand with you. Invite all-who-mean-no-harm to join you. It is just as
easy as imagining my front door opening and welcoming them in with a full
heart. But I do like to open my actual front door for a moment and say, “Welcome
Ancestors.”
[I like to work with candles so have one ready. It can be a
simple tea light or something like a seven-day candle. Small children and
animals can make candles dangerous but if you like the ambiance, use a
battery-operated candle.]
Speak the name of the one who passed to your ancestors. Say
who they were to you. Speak out loud. Clear a spot somewhere. Light the candle.
(Or turn it on.)
[Candles are good magic. They also have an ending. It might
be 4 hours. It might be 7 days. But when it ends it is not symbolic of anything
other than its own life cycle is over. You can always start over with a new
candle.]
Burn the candle in their honor. Leave out a glass of water,
or a preferred libation of the deceased.
Say what you need to
say to them. And when you are done, wish them peace. Ask the ancestors to
welcome them home.
You can add favorite music, favorite prayers; make it
personal. It can even be as simple as a moment of focus and then release as the
candle flickers. Let the candle burn as long as you are up and about in the
space.
[If you use a long-burning candle you can dedicate it as a
sacred object for you to burn whenever you are missing your loved one.]
*
If you are suffering the loss of a loved one during this
time of physical isolation—whether they died because of the virus or not—my
heart is with you. May you feel held in your grief. May you have means of connecting
to living loved ones. May you find peace in each other. May you find outlets
for your sorrow.
May you remember love.
