death unsantitized...

The public cemetery in Guatemala City makes one alive to all their senses... the smell is strong. The rows of stacked tombs, like uniquely decorated cabinets draw the eye upward and over names, dates and flowers to the buzzards circling above. Silence permeates with the occasional shuffle of feet, visitors to leave flowers for loved ones, or the low murmur of talking and crying that surround a burial site. The uncle of Marible, the mom in my family here, died this past week. I was not only touched by the loss of this man in their family, but also a bit fascinated by the way death is approached and dealt with in this culture. They had a vigil with the body in the home for visitors to come by and say goodbyes, pray and bless him for a full day after the death. Then the next day, the whole community accompanied the family to the grave site where they placed the body in grave, filled in the covering with brick and mortar and said goodbyes. Cemeteries are always striking to me for this reason- the living among the dead- looking on knowing we will all inevitably accompany them, join them in their rest, knowing that they have experienced the beyond, while we wait in wonder- but somehow in this setting with the smells, the sights, the sounds, it took on a new reality for me.