Vzpomínáme (We Remember)

The thing that you notice about Czech cemeteries is that they are beautifully well taken care of. The grass is particularly green. And they are busy. Well, especially at Christmas time. It is the custom for the Czech people to visit the grave of their dear departed one's early in November and then again just before or on Christmas. In fact, just before the Christmas meal is eaten, families take a moment to remember loved ones who are far or have passed on.

It was fitting, then, that we visited the the burial place of Grandpa's parents, Josef and Marie, on the crisp morning the day before Christmas Eve. With this in mind, Mirek and I purchased two small wreaths and candles to place on the graves in memory. We'd come a long way not to mark it in some special way, for both parents and children.

The moment was quiet, spiritual, thoughtful, full of emotion, serene. It felt like coming together. Grandpa placed a small pot of flowers on his father's grave. Karen lay the wreath. Joe, my husband, lit the candle for his namesake and great-grandfather, Josef. By passage of years, the name of another now adorned the headstone and some paraphernalia decorated it; a red ticket indicated that it now lay unclaimed by failure to pay its rent and upkeep. Yet it was no less of a final resting place for having been shared, and Grandpa stood with the men of his family and dedicated the grave of his father.

Marie's resting place was further away, up the path, in a quiet spot under the shade of a nearby tree. It had no name and no decoration but the filagree of a cross and the accoutrements of nature and time. Karen lay the wreath on the green of her grandmother's final resting place. Reef asked to light the candle but I softly declined and lit the match myself. As I placed the candle, I spoke to Marie in my mind. Here are your family Marie. They are here for you. You are together. I know you love them. I hope they can feel it. Marie's love curled through the winter sun and filled the air. I felt it move and wrap around her child, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren, and all her family.

Someone said Grandma is here. Mirek pointed to the sky, Marie is in heaven now. Uncle Steve stood by the cross in the dappled light, gold flecked and softly sparkling green. He replied. She is here, now. She is all around us.

-Alison