Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jul 3, 2018
Prowling the cemetery, I visit Joanne's neighbors. Many of them I know, and, if I don't know them I know the family. There are markers for infants, sometimes more than one in the same family. Children and young people are buried there, not to mention the middle-aged, old and very old. There are those who are very dear to me. Parents of beloved friends lie there. Some stones remember those who have no family geographically close. Some are names long gone from the community.
Those cold, hard stones tell stories of death and separation, to me, they ooze grief. Imagining the tears that were shed over the death and burial I am reminded of the poem by John Donne, "For Whom The Bell Tolls." "Don't ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." He goes on to say if even a clod of dirt is washed into the sea the continent is smaller for it. When one dies we all are lessened. The cemetery reminds me of this.
In 1793 a terrible Yellow Fever epidemic struck Philadelphia. As the situation worsened churches were prohibited from tolling their bells at funerals. As if not annoucing to the public someones death would make things better. Death denial is still with us and time in a cemetery is a good antidote. At Zion Lutheran, Mohall, ND, the bell always tolled as the procession left the church for the cemetery.
With Joanne's death I certainly feel lessened.
Blessings,
Al
Those cold, hard stones tell stories of death and separation, to me, they ooze grief. Imagining the tears that were shed over the death and burial I am reminded of the poem by John Donne, "For Whom The Bell Tolls." "Don't ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." He goes on to say if even a clod of dirt is washed into the sea the continent is smaller for it. When one dies we all are lessened. The cemetery reminds me of this.
In 1793 a terrible Yellow Fever epidemic struck Philadelphia. As the situation worsened churches were prohibited from tolling their bells at funerals. As if not annoucing to the public someones death would make things better. Death denial is still with us and time in a cemetery is a good antidote. At Zion Lutheran, Mohall, ND, the bell always tolled as the procession left the church for the cemetery.
With Joanne's death I certainly feel lessened.
Blessings,
Al
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