My friend Bob, whom I had the privilege of walking with through the last year of his life, was a creature of habit. He put $1.13 in his pocket each and every morning. Three quarters, three dimes, a nickel and three pennies. No one knows why he chose that figure nor that particular collection of coins but he did it every morning. 

We had two funerals for Bob. One when he died and another a few months later when we buried his ashes. We hallowed the ground where he was to be remembered and the family placed his ashes in the niche. Participating in the ceremony of placing Bob in his final resting place took on great meaning for the family. Lovingly placing the ashes instead of just allowing someone else to do so after we all left turned the event into a meaningful experience instead of just a necessary ordeal for the family to go through.

Just before the son placed the plate over the opening, the grandchildren lined up and placed $1.13 in with Bob’s ashes. Three quarter, three dimes, a nickel and three pennies. Then they knelt and kissed the marker. Ceremonies speak when words fail and they were expressing in ceremony feelings no words could describe. 

When another of my friends died, his grandchildren who loved him dearly and with good cause, stood in the hot sun at the cemetery and carved their names in the wood of his casket. The folks at the cemetery were probably not pleased with having to wait in the heat, but no one can ever know what emotions and thoughts were expressed at the point of some pocket knives.

Ceremonies actually do speak when we have no words, and they should not be limited to the time of the funeral. Families find great meaning in ceremonial ways of remembering. It might be planting a tree, or making a contribution to a cause held dear by a loved one. It can be something done when the family gathers for holidays. Or it can be a very private experience known only to us. 

Ceremonies are particularly needed and meaningful when the family gathers for holidays or other events. Far too often a parent or a mate feels like the family is just going on in their normal way and their loved one is already forgotten. They do not want to be a wet blanket for the rest of the family so most often they suffer in silence, but they long for someone to remember and at least call the name of their love. 

My grandson died on Christmas day fifteen years ago. He only lived thirty-four hours so our time with him was far too brief. Every Christmas since then we stop before we open presents, light a candle and remember Isaac. The ceremony is not long nor morbid but it expresses feelings for me and keeps his memory alive in the family. 

As other members of the family have died, we have added a candle for them. One daughter’s mother-in-law died last year. At Thanksgiving we paused to light her candle. Her husband placed a small picture beside the candle and we all felt her presence back with us. 

I am purchasing some unique candles that will be designated to each of the ones we remember. Our company has access to a place were we can buy large glass candles that can be engraved. I want something like that so each person has their own candle. Somehow I feel like they come back among us when their particular candle is lit. Am I just being silly? Not at all. I am being healed by expressing a part of my grief through ceremony, and in the process remembering to remember. 

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