Symbols

As I write about my Erik's funeral, and how I feel about it in looking back, it occurs to me that in some way, the ceremony of burying our loved ones is one very momentous symbol, or at the least, a sequenced collection of many types of symbols.  Suddenly I realize that it is no accident that I have always believed in symbols.

In trying to do research regarding symbols for my blog, I immediately found that it is a term that is loosely used, and perhaps not truly what I have in mind when I use the word.  When I think of symbols in my life, they are concrete objects which have very significant meaning to me.  I am not a materialistic person, but have always treasured things from my family’s past…not necessarily antiques…but items which evoke images, spur memories, and cause a smile or sigh in remembrance of a person or event.

I have a mantel clock with chimes which used to be in my grandmother’s house.  Having fond memories of being a little girl and staying overnight at her house, I remember lying in bed in the still quiet house and hearing these chimes from downstairs.  Hearing them is almost like falling through a time warp, and I am a small girl again, safe and secure in a bed at my grandma’s, looking forward to whatever adventure she has planned for us the next day. ...

As time has gone on, this collection of items has grown of course, each one treasured in a unique and special way.  Grandma’s vase, grandma’s chair, my cousin’s grandmother’s chair, my godmother’s bedroom set, jewelry from my mother, paintings and teapots from my mother-in-law, and the list goes on. 

Some of my treasures are less classic or obvious.  I have a Santa hat.  It is from the last Christmas a group of the girls got together at a dear friend’s house before we lost her to cancer.  She had gone out and bought enough hats for all of us, and of course we all wore them dutifully for the afternoon, with pictures to prove it. 

When my godmother turned seventy, my cousin had a big party for her.  Now my aunt was typical of my father’s family, a no-nonsense, very unemotional, strong Austrian woman.  I remember I had decided to be very brave, and bought her a pretty china music box, and had it engraved.  Much to my horror, my godmother who was my aunt, opened her gifts in front of the extended family, which meant she opened it in front of all of the other unemotional Austrian members of the family.

(One of the cousin’s wives once joked that we were the “frigid” family.  Actually, she was not joking, but no one cared, and it became an ongoing family joke.  We later lost her to divorce.)

So as my aunt was handed my gift, I braced myself for her reaction, thinking it would be clearly written on her face that my gift was silly, and what had I been thinking.

Much to my amazement, she unwrapped the music box, looked at me, and I almost thought she had a tear in her eye.  She seemed so touched, and thanked me profusely, and I think now that maybe she didn’t receive many gifts like that.

Years later, after she passed, I was with my cousin one day, when she handed me a package.  As I opened it, she said that she and her sisters felt I should have it, and yes, it was the music box, and yes I had a tear in my eye.  I keep it on my godmother’s dresser, which is now my dresser.

As I look around my house, I think I have an inordinate number of these items.  It must be important to me.  I know it makes me feel peaceful and happy.

Now I have added symbols to remind me of my son.  It was his habit to wear a cross around his neck, and one of his favorites was a Celtic cross.  There were so few things he left behind, that the family quickly seized this symbol as a way to remember him.  It was engraved on his stone, and my son Jason wears the cross Erik wore.  My sister often sends me gifts of the cross, sun catchers, stone crosses for the patio, necklaces.  Ironically people often misunderstand and ask if we are Irish, and I say no, “It’s for Erik”.

And so this brings me to the symbolism of funerals.  As people believe more overtly in spiritualism and the importance of people gathering together, I think back to my son’s funeral as a tribute.  Not a medal, or a trophy, but a gathering of hearts of those who loved him and our family.  Inherent to most wakes and funerals are the symbols of candles and flowers, crosses and religious pictures.  Often now the prayer cards depict beautiful scenes from nature, sunsets or starlit skies.  Stars are compared to souls of our loved ones shining down on us, candles are lights that can be seen from a far distance or in a darkened room, giving us hope.

I am grateful for this phenomenon of symbols.  It gives me something to hold tightly or touch gently and brings me closer to someone I miss.  It gives me a chance to mention them when someone notices the item or asks about it.

But most of all, I think I love the universality of it all.  I know there are others who feel the same way I do.  Their objects or memorabilia may be very different than mine.  It may not be understood at first glance.  But I know it is something the majority of us do.  And while I believe in the essence or spirit of those I have lost always being in my heart, I smile as I hold that Santa hat or music box in my hands, and would not trade them for anything in the world.