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The Unbroken Circle
Today was a balmy spring morning, and I found myself standing among the graves in a cemetery, as someone was being buried. I could not help thinking back to a similar spring morning almost three years ago, when we buried my grand-nephew, scarcely a month after his twentieth birthday.
Brandon's death, attributed by the coroner to "natural causes" seemed an outrage, an obscenity. There is nothing "natural" about the death of one so young, who had barely tasted life. He had left the party early, leaving behind only his elders: parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and collateral relatives.
Mr. M------, who was buried this morning was an elderly gentleman who had made his mark in the world. He had retired from a successful retail business. He had fathered eight children, seven of whom survived him. And those children produced 21 grandchildren and 22 great-grandchildren. He was the elder of the family, having survived his wife by a matter of months.
Sad though his relatives may be at losing him, Mr. M------'s death, I got the sense that his purpose had been fulfilled, his mission completed. And this was beautifully illustrated by the youngest great-grandchild, a sweet little girl of two or three years. Eighteen adults stood at the graveside, showing all the proper solemnity. The great-granddaughter, exhilarated by the beautiful day and the grand outdoor space, capered about the edges of the crowd, picking dandelions. There were several attempts to rein her into the group, but no real anger or embarassment at her innocent energy. Each mourner had been given a long-stemmed flower, and after the proper words were spoken, Holy Water sprinkled, and "Taps" played, each came forward to place his or her flower on the grave. Last of the group, fittingly, was the little girl, who contributed the bouquet of dandelions she'd picked.
As I write these words, the words of Horatio Spafford came to mind:
But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!
I am not a person of faith, but one of those show-me-the-money cynics. And somehow, a little piece of the puzzle fell into place for me today.