JavaScript is disabled in your web browser or browser is too old to support JavaScript. Today almost all web pages contain JavaScript, a scripting programming language that runs on visitor's web browser. It makes web pages functional for specific purposes and if disabled for some reason, the content or the functionality of the web page can be limited or unavailable.
Vieraskieliset / In-english

Blog: Cemetery peace

Vieraskieliset / In-english
31.8.2021 7.00

Juttua muokattu:

20.8. 10:37
2021082010371020210831070000

Text: Lii­sa Lil­va­nen-Pel­ko­nen

Trans­la­ti­on: Sirk­ka-Lii­sa Lei­no­nen

This past sum­mer I spent a lot of time at Toi­ja­la ce­me­te­ry, be­cau­se my mot­her is no lon­ger ab­le to take care of our re­la­ti­ves’ gra­ves. For many ye­ars al­re­a­dy I have plan­ted flo­wers on the gra­ves in Toi­ja­la and al­so on my grand­pa­rents’ gra­ves in Lem­pää­lä and my sis­ter’s grave in Ur­ja­la. My mot­her, ho­we­ver, has been res­pon­sib­le for wa­te­ring the flo­wers on the ne­ar­by gra­ves. Fin­nish sum­mers are of­ten so rai­ny that wa­te­ring has not been a ma­jor task.

The hot sum­mer we had this ye­ar, ho­we­ver, cau­sed a lot more traf­fic at the ce­me­te­ry. I went to wa­ter the flo­wers eve­ry se­cond eve­ning, and I of­ten sta­yed and sat on a bench for a mo­ment to ad­mi­re the be­au­ty of the gra­vey­ard. The warm we­at­her al­so re­min­ded me of the two springs and sum­mers that I wor­ked at a ce­me­te­ry. One of those sum­mers was very warm, and I spent most of my wor­king hours car­rying wa­te­ring cans. My arms went so numb that I had to hang them down by the side of the bed when trying to fall as­leep in the eve­ning. There were no wa­te­ring ho­ses avai­lab­le, and we the­re­fo­re had to car­ry around wa­te­ring cans to save the poor flo­wers that nod­ded their he­ads in the heat. Yet I lo­ved my job. I es­pe­ci­al­ly li­ked to work on new gra­ves. My work­ma­tes cal­led me “grave ar­tist”, sa­ying that I made the gra­ves look so tidy and ar­tis­ti­cal­ly nice. Ma­y­be they on­ly wan­ted to be friend­ly to a new wor­ker.

I had ne­ver re­a­li­zed be­fo­re that many pe­op­le come to the ce­me­te­ry dai­ly. Now that I my­self went there of­ten, I ten­ded to see the same pe­op­le of­ten vi­si­ting the ne­ar­by gra­ves. Some of them see­med busy and ten­ded to their flo­wers quick­ly, while some ot­hers had time to walk around or stop and sit down. I think that eve­ry vi­si­tor has a right to spend pri­va­te time with their lo­ved ones who have pas­sed away. I the­re­fo­re avoid con­tact with unk­nown pe­op­le, be­cau­se I can­not know how they feel about their vi­sit at the grave. It would be em­bar­ras­sing to smile bright­ly to a per­son who feels very sad. But when I meet pe­op­le I know, we can free­ly talk the way we would talk anyw­he­re el­se.

I have li­ved in the same lo­ca­li­ty for more than 50 ye­ars, and I the­re­fo­re know many of the pe­op­le bu­ried in the lo­cal gra­vey­ard. There are fa­mi­li­ar in­di­vi­du­als and whole fa­mi­lies, a few of my old te­ac­hers, but for­tu­na­te­ly no stu­dents of mine yet. I have so­me­ti­mes even been ab­le to tell a vi­si­tor where to find the grave they were loo­king for.

I en­joy the tran­qui­li­ty of ce­me­te­ries. I feel good vi­si­ting the gra­ves of my fat­her and step-fat­her, be­cau­se they were be­lie­vers. I know they are res­ting and wai­ting for the mor­ning of re­sur­rec­ti­on and their des­ti­na­ti­on in the he­a­ven­ly home. Some ot­her be­lie­vers have al­so been bu­ried in our lo­cal ce­me­te­ry, but there are not many of them. I do not feel par­ti­cu­lar­ly sad about that when wal­king around the ce­me­te­ry, and I do not think I would even need to feel sad.

Ma­y­be my vi­sits to the ce­me­te­ry this past sum­mer have al­so been pre­pa­ring me for the fu­tu­re pas­sing of my el­der­ly mot­her. Ten­ding to a grave will pro­bab­ly have a comp­le­te­ly dif­fe­rent me­a­ning when I vi­sit the res­ting place of the per­son clo­sest and de­a­rest to me. Still, I am sure that even when that hap­pens, the mo­men­ta­ry sad­ness will turn in­to joy when I re­mem­ber that the we­a­ry tra­ve­ler has been ab­le to put down her tra­ve­ling staff.

28.3.2024

Jeesus otti leivän, siunasi, mursi ja antoi sen opetuslapsilleen sanoen: ”Tämä on minun ruumiini, joka annetaan teidän puolestanne. Tehkää tämä minun muistokseni.” Luuk. 22:19

Viikon kysymys