Cicely Herbert reflects on death and memorials, recalling visits to Père Lachaise and Highgate Cemeteries.
When I was banished to a boarding school, after my mother had become too ill to care for her children, I believed that, if I should be forgotten by my family, then I would cease to exist. Perhaps that is why I now believe that the act of remembrance of the dead, of victims of war, conflicts and disasters, is so important. We visit the massed graves of the dead from two world wars, and observe silence at the tomb of the unknown soldier, but the killing continues. Millions still die from famine, disease and war.
In George Bernard Shaw's short story, 'The Black Girl in Search of God' is advised by a young man, 'Take the world as it comes, for beyond the grave it is nothing.' Longfellow had a more comforting view. 'The grave is but a covered bridge, leading from light to light, through a brief darkness.'
Whether one regards death as the end of life, or as the beginning of an, as yet, unknown journey, our memories of someone we care about, and the way we choose to celebrate that life are of profound importance to us. Whether we plant a tree, scatter wild flower seeds, or mark the burial place with a carved stone, the rituals we perform help us to come to terms with our loss.
One cannot but be awed by visits made to great cemeteries like Highgate in London or Père Lachaise in Paris. Both contain magnificent tombs, sometimes crumbling away, often lovingly tended. Karl Marx continues to draw devotees, political historians and the merely curious, to north London from all over the world. American rock star Jim Morrison's grave in Paris has become a place of pilgrimage for countless admirers, who, over the years have covered the surrounding stones with graffiti, lines from his songs and quotations from Blake's poetry, while, if I remember rightly, the writer Colette lies under a simple slab of black stone. Oscar Wilde's tombstone portrays the writer as a sphinx-like figure sculpted by Jacob Epstein. According to my guidebook to the cemetery, 'two English women, walking in Père Lachaise, were scandalised by the display of the naked man, and his attributes "virils assurément honorables" and stole the "précieux morceaux"', though other accounts suggest that an official at the cemetery uses the trophy as a paperweight.
World wide, men and women have devised rituals that honour the memory of the dead. Churchyards, cemeteries and memorial stones hold the memory of our hopes for the future, our triumphs and disasters, our loves and our losses and perhaps surprisingly, our faith in human life and its continuance.
My younger brother contracted pneumonia and died on the night when the world was celebrating the arrival of the New Millennium. I shall forever remember the sight of his two young sons standing by his graveside, each holding a bunch of flowers. Now, just over a decade later, both boys are married men, each one a loving father to his young daughter, and both leading happy and fulfilled lives.
The passing of time can heal. Nations do recover from wars, famines and disasters. We can learn from the past, and still face the future with optimism. It is essential that we find a way to live peacefully together, and to value and celebrate the lives of every person and of all living creatures.