Monday, September 13, 2010

Consecration and 1 Year Anniversary

It will soon be one year since Peter passed away on 19 September 2009. I am not sure if any of you out there still have a link to Peter's blog but I thought it would be a good way of "closing the circle" to post the details of the recent consecration service held on Sunday 5 September and photos of the grave.

Photo 1: Peter's grave and the Ohel Chaim chapel in the background
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(Apologies - I couldn't get the photos to rotate to be upright on the blog)
Photo 2: The text on the gravestone (known as a "ledger")

As is traditional, within a year of death the grave and headstone are erected and a consecration or "unveiling" ceremony is held. I have to say I agonised for many months about what text to place on the grave given that it is literally carved in stone and there forever, or until it falls down or is changed.

Photo3: Peter's headstone

I spent many hours with scraps of paper and words or lines in the kitchen or at my office desk as something might strike me. I visited the workshop of the monumental mason and in the end the need to have something finalised before the consecration date spurred me on.

I have to thank Dave and Kathleen for two things which contributed to finalising the text - the first was a Kaddish prayer I found on Dave's blog
(which I took as a framework for the grave text but with almost total rewriting to be relevant to Peter) and the second was sending the text to Kathleen and her thoughts about Peter - both of which allowed me to edit and adjust to what I think of now as something that "works" to both describe Peter and move people to reflection - both things of which Peter would have approved, especially the latter as he was often given to provocative discussion or writing in order to make people think. So thanks to both Kathleen and Dave.

The 5th September was a sunny, bright day in Sydney, however, as can be the case in early Spring, it was blowing a very stiff wind, which was unfortunate. About 20 people attended and I want to thank everyone who attended or attempted to (one person was stuck in traffic and missed the ceremony) given that I didn't realise it was also Father's Day and so many were unable to be there for that reason. The Rabbi led a very moving prayer and remembrance service by the graveside and to my surprise turned to me to say a few words, which I hadn't been expecting. I don't really remember too much of what I said, as I was quite upset all over again. I do remember talking about Peter's gratitude for his family's migration and a few other things.

Afterwards, we adjourned gratefully from the blowing conditions (wind gust from the west at about 50 kms per hour) to a small function room and about 15 or 16 of us had some refreshments and opportunities to talk with each other 1 and 1/2 hours.

Everyone kindly said how moving they found the text on the grave, heartfelt and appropriate, for which I was gratified. In fact the rabbi used it as the parting blessing and that made me feel that it was very suitable.

The next day, I received a call from Peter's relative in Sydney who said she had received a call from the family of the man who is buried beside Peter and they wished to convey how very moved they were by the text. So I hope you find it so as well.

I now feel that we have honoured Peter and his memory in a very personal and relevant way. I wanted people who read that grave to know more of the person who lay there than you can ever know from the brief factual information about name, birth and death date and to whom the person was related or married. I wanted people to know that he was a special to many but more than important to just me. He contributed so very much in everything he did and would have continued to do so for years to come if the effects of smoking and ignoring his health for so long had not resulted in his early death.

Since his death people have asked how I am and what I am doing. I have felt disabling distress and been sunk in a trough of despair. When people talk about the light going out of their life, I now know what they mean. I feel as if the great generator of life and love has been extinguished. I feel very numb punctuated, on occasion, by nausea that flows over me in huge heated waves if I think of the last few weeks and months we were together and the amazing amount of stress we were both facing. I wonder about the things I did and whether I contributed to Peter's early demise in some way (did I introduce the infection somehow?....) even though the cancer was gradually overtaking his system. I have been reclusive and sometimes stir in the early hours of the morning and remember something that I had forgotten about his treatment or about what I might have done and feel distressed again. I have lost enjoyment in so many things and I have suddenly crashed into the wall of my own mortality with a sickening thud!

However, I have found a perspective that makes things at work (to which I returned in January this year) a little easier to bear. I have become self-contained once more but miss Peter more than I thought possible. I want to engage with life again now but feel very reticent and often lack enthusiasm for anything much. What more can I say? Even though we were both independent people we had inveigled our way into each other's hearts and life. I cannot believe how fast the 16 years we were together passed and I am saddened that it was so short. However, I will remember, treasure and honour Peter all the days of my life.

Leanne