Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Sep 14, 2018
Five months ago I could not have written most what has appeared on this blog. Well, duuuh! OK, OK, of course I couldn't. But it's fascinating to me that some of what I write is new to me even as I write it. Last night I wrote about Joanne's burial community. The power of that really only came home to me yesterday.
The thought began to form a few days ago. In a phone call with my second cousin, who is a niece of Clifford Dahl who is buried only a few feet from Joanne, the meaning of that proximity began to dawn on me. Today, with several hours on a tractor, I kept thinking about how fortunate we are to have access to this cemetery. When I visit Joanne's grave, after I've spent time with her, I wander (prowl) around. Many of those buried there are known to me, others I know the family to which they belong, and there are a few strangers.
Walking about the cemetery puts Joanne's death in context. Many of those buried there lived much shorter lives than she. Many families buried children and some several. Reading the inscriptions reminds me of the abundance of grief in this life. While my grief is unique, i.e., it is mine, we all suffer loss. Our society with its denial of death does us no favors.
Joanne was very clear that she wanted to buried in Sinai. Several of her friends reported that she'd told them this. It meshed with my preference, and with the blessings of our children, there was not debate. Now, as the significance of this choice becomes ever more clear to me, I wish I could ask her why she made this choice.
Blessings,
al
The thought began to form a few days ago. In a phone call with my second cousin, who is a niece of Clifford Dahl who is buried only a few feet from Joanne, the meaning of that proximity began to dawn on me. Today, with several hours on a tractor, I kept thinking about how fortunate we are to have access to this cemetery. When I visit Joanne's grave, after I've spent time with her, I wander (prowl) around. Many of those buried there are known to me, others I know the family to which they belong, and there are a few strangers.
Walking about the cemetery puts Joanne's death in context. Many of those buried there lived much shorter lives than she. Many families buried children and some several. Reading the inscriptions reminds me of the abundance of grief in this life. While my grief is unique, i.e., it is mine, we all suffer loss. Our society with its denial of death does us no favors.
Joanne was very clear that she wanted to buried in Sinai. Several of her friends reported that she'd told them this. It meshed with my preference, and with the blessings of our children, there was not debate. Now, as the significance of this choice becomes ever more clear to me, I wish I could ask her why she made this choice.
Blessings,
al
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