The Labor of Grief

The UP is a lawless land of the wild and my perfect cemetery being what it is, there are no graveyard amenities that come with buying a plot in the cemetery.  If you want to put someone into the ground, you must first dig the hole.  It is not a service provided.

In July 2018 my family marched to the top of the hill and took turns digging out the place I would inter my child and my husband.  It was hot, and sweaty, and the mosquitoes were in aggressive force, and it was dirty, terrible, heart-wrenching, and exhausting work.  It was good for our hearts.

Prior to this chapter(?) in my life, I’d never given thought to the catharsis that manual labor offers.   We know in our DNA, in the fiber, and in molecules of our bodies that these people belong to us.  Z came from my body, my body remembers, my body expects her to be with me.  I spent a significant amount of quality time working for my husband and the business of cancer.  I moved him from chair to couch to bed to car to chair and back again.  I moved him between appointments and I picked him up when he fell.  I worked so hard on his life.  My body remembers the work.

Manual labor allows our bodies to understand grief.  Quiet contemplation of the chore at hand engages the entire mind, body, and spirit.

This past couple of weeks we were in the UP for a big family holiday.  We normally don’t do that – normally we close up the cabins for the winter and that’s it.  But this year was the odd year on and I arrived a day after my siblings.  When I got up north, my brother let me know he’d shoveled a path to the back of the cemetery.  He got to spend some time with his thoughts as he did the work of the bereaved.

When he dug them out, he’d found this year’s grave blanket, left by Z’s archery coach.  It’s his mission to make sure this favor is done every year.   Coach builds them himself from fresh boughs wired together.  They are not purchased, they are a work of love and time.

When we allow our bodies to bereave the loss, along with our minds and souls, we allow ourselves to fully participate in the work of grief.  We calm the anxiety of the soul, the transferred grief of the body.

I will work to be present with their absence and give my body some relief.

Because the body never forgets.

Zero stars.  Do not recommend.

 

 

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