Who, born mentally-handicapped,
Lived in an institution, died young,
and was cremated. Dad’s cousin
ensured her ashes were buried
alongside her brother
Now that cemetery holds
four headstones and five lives.
These divisions of life that grid us
like coffins
eventually turn to earth.
***
Written for dVerse and retroactively for W3
Jewish Young Professional 
Wonderful poem. I just got back from my mom’s internment at the national cemetery in Santa Fe. I found my grandfather and grandmother’s grave while I was there. They are in a grave with a headstone. My dad’s ashes are in a vault and mom’s joined his today.
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We had the unveiling ceremony recently for my grandmother (~one year after the death, there is a ceremony to uncover the headstone and say specific prayers). There was an odd sense of peace seeing the family graves together, although it was also odd. Hard to describe.
I remember your tribute post to your mom. How are you doing with everything?
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Thanks, JTP. We are all well. Dad and mom are buried together, but we don’t have a family grave. I haven’t thought about where I’d go. Maybe my ashed can be thrown to the wind.
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Hopefully that question about yourself does not require an answer for a good long time!
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I’ve faced death more than once, and you would think that I might think more seriously about things like what to do with my ashes. But, like you, I’m thinking it might be a good long time before I have to deal with it. Some things are just meant to be procrastinated.
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Eh, I get it on the procrastination. There are other more interesting things to think about in life.
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Like life!
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This is so real and raw. It spoke to me of hidden lives and unnecessary shame. It’s very moving.
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It’s a true family story that I literally just learned the other day (and I’m in my 30s). I appreciate that this happened at a very different time and disability was handled very differently. I suppose I am just processing information.
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How weird. But yeah, it’s all the same in the end.
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I literally just learned this a few days ago.
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Bizarre.
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After saving a thimbleful for each of her (5) children, I scattered my mother’s ashes over the grave of her parents and (hundreds of miles away) her stillborn grand-daughter. She left the task to me, knowing I would know her preference without having to ask.
Fine work, this. Salute.
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It is a special form of respect to honor the wishes of the deceased. Amazing that she trusted you and you followed through.
Also, I can’t tell from this description if “her stillborn granddaughter” = “your stillborn daughter” but in case case, I am sorry for such a loss and the loss of your mother too.
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And so it is. My family’s graves are also buried next to each other, a reminder of our family’s lives.
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There was something both peaceful and unsettling about seeing “the family” together like that.
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Wow! A lot of deep content within your quadrille.
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Thanks! I literally just learned this bit of family history a few days ago.
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This is so moving! The image; “These divisions of life that grid us like coffins,” is particularly strong and palpable.
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Thank you. I realized I recently used the “grid” imagery in another poem (not posted on this blog) – I do find it so fascinating the idea of grids that we put ourselves into.
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Very moving words.
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Thank you ❤
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I’m terrified of getting an alert in my email about a DNA match that’s not my fifth cousin but is in fact another sibling.
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I find it so unlikely a possibility that I don’t really think about it much, but if it did happen, I would be shocked.
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Very moving. Found some of the comments here to be equally touching. So well expressed. Such a heartfelt poem, moved me deeply.
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Thank you. I literally just learned this family history a few days ago. I suppose I am still processing.
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An interesting discovery. There was a time when being handicapped held a stigma. Your poem illustrates that very well. Nicely done.
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I just learned the story. I know that times were different, there was a stigma, etc. I try not to judge the other siblings in the family (one of whom died while I was alive and one of whom died before I was born) and I was not alive to know the parents who made that decision. I try not to judge by today’s standards. I suppose that I am just processing the story.
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Thank you for sharing this story with us!
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Such a sad story, to be united only in death.
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It is.
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sad 😦
(why no headstone?)
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I have no idea. I just learned about this relative a few days ago.
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So moving and sad, too. I wonder about her life.
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I do too.
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That’s so sad. I feel for those who live as nobodys.
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It is. I am glad that I now know her name
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I read this as both the sad story of your great-aunt with her life in an institution… and the family grave… good that she found her place with the family at last.
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I think this piece is both stories
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Elegant. I’m not sure I have more to say. There’s a warmth here of family and loss that is often hard to capture. But there it is – you’ve done it.
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Thank you. I had the experience recently of going to the cemetery and seeing “the family” – siblings and spouses of that generation – and it was this odd sense of both loss and peace that I wanted to capture.
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I too had an aunt who was developmentally disabled. When my mom died, none of her nephews and nieces were able to serve as her legal guardian. So that was my priority when I retired from the Air Force. Sadly, within a year of my retirement, and just a few months after the process was completed, Evie passed away.
My siblings and cousins were surprised by my undertaking this process, since we were free to visit her any time we wanted, in her group home. I told them that, as family, I felt we had a genuine obligation to care for her… not to mention that it would, by extension, honor the memory of our mother and our grandparents.
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That is a great kindness and responsibility to take on the role of legal guardian. I think your mother and grandparents would be proud.
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a sad, moving story; one can only imagine what it was like behind the walls of the asylum; there’s the remains an old lunatic asylum in Adelaide, I sometimes try to imagine what it was like, all those untold stories —
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It was definitely unsettling to realize this particular story had been untold for so long
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and there are many more like it — someone should write a history of the home, profiling long term residents —
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Raw and sort of surreal. With cremation there is as such no place to visit.
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It is surreal, particularly as this is a based on a true story. I only learned about this relative recently. My dad’s cousin made a point of ensuring my great-aunt’s ashes would be buried in the coffin of her (great-aunt’s) brother, so there is a place to visit, although there is no headstone. It is very weird to think about.
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I get that.
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Profound observation. You do have an excellent knack for noticing things that most of us miss. L’chaim
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Thank you. It’s based on a true story that I only learned about recently.
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A well written and affecting poem.
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Thanks!
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“four gravestones and five lives” This line says it all for me. So many lives that go unacknowledged and then are hidden away – so that not even the living are aware. Thanks for peeling back the veil and sharing!
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I credit my cousin who spent time looking into the family history and who made a point of sharing this information. I can’t comment on the decisions made by my ancestors whom I never met and who lived in a different time under different circumstances; I can only take this new knowledge and remember. Thank you.
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Hi, JYP ❤
I just wanna let you know that the W3 prompt for this week (hosted by the lovely Britta Benson) is now live:
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