BEGINNING MEDITATIONS ON GRIEF

 When the cherry trees bloom, I am reminded of the brevity of life. In Japan, cherry blossom time is celebrated as a moment of beauty and transience. For a short while, the trees are in their full glory. Then their petals start to fall and dance in the wind. Green leaves start to appear, and life goes on.

 

At the same time, violets bloom carpeting the fields, growing in sidewalk cracks, and flourishing in yards. Purples and lavenders are mixed with the kelly greens of the new grass. During the Rosalia (held in May), Romans place violets on graves (This is known as dies violae (day of the violets)). The purple of these flowers evoke blood, since spring is both a season of death and rebirth

 

While others rejoice in springtime, I feel grief mingling with the joy. One moment. the violets are blooming. The next, the heat heralds the coming summer.

 

One April while I was walking to high school with my girlfriend, a deranged man jumped out of the bushes. In a blink of an eye, he stabbed my friend in her neck. I remember her dark blood seeping into the sidewalk. Then afterwards, silence.

 

Grief morphs into many forms. It can turn from a knife to a stone in the heart. It can creep back on you unawares, slamming you into a wall. It can become a shrine to visit from time to time. Or a tomb to live in. As one doctor put it, grief can be either a whirlpool or a waterfall. For me, it is a lake that I paddle my canoe in from time to time.

 

As a Polytheist, I believe that the Dead live in both our world and their world. There are times when they visit the living. In July, Babylonians welcome their family dead into their homes and feed them hot soup. In May, Romans will leave out broken pottery to encourage the unwanted Dead to accept their offerings and leave.

 

Grief is like that. It comes travelling from between the worlds. You welcome it in, give it hot soup, and wish it well. Or you leave out broken pottery for the time you want it to be gone.

 

I am reminded of “Stumpy,” the stump of a cherry tree at the Tidal Basin in Washington D.C. Stumpy lost half of its canopy in a late frost a few years ago. However, the stump has one large branch that still blooms. Every year, Stumpy continues to have cherry blossoms like the other trees. As Stumpy is resilient, so can we.

 

I chose to remember my high school friend as she was. Full of life, laughing, pushing her glasses up on her nose. Sharing a table at Fine Art Class, bemoaning our painting techniques. That is how I honor her. I will hold her in the living flame of Vesta.