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David E. Perry's avatar

I read this and didn't know how to respond, what to do. Then realized that you did not need or ask us to 'do' anything. Just to sit with you. As you sit with all that swirls and asks your consideration. So I left a part of my mind to sit there, in silence, with you, with your righteously angry, David, beside your mother's resting place. And so I've been sitting here, that part of me that I asked to sit here, listening. One can hear each voice raised in your behalf, each of these readers' kind notes. You have brought together a congregation at your mother's graveside. People who see you. Feel with you. Stand with you. I wonder if she would be pleased for the visitors, each loyal to her daughter, who is loyal to her. Graves are the trickiest of intersections. They do not conform to any rules of logic, which really, makes them all the more fascinating. I could never wish you the achey parts, but I love this story and the way you have brought us all to your mother's graveside for a visit and a chance to meet like minds.

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Nate Marshall's avatar

Chloe, this is such a beautiful, raw reflection. Thank you for sharing it with us. The distinct lack of pastoral wisdom or care from those supposed to be the pastors of a parish is jarring. As you ask, where is the Reverend’s reverence?

We in the West have such a sanitized relationship with death, provided with as many anodyne channels as possible to remove ourselves from the deterioration and discomfort leading to and resulting from Death, and in the process also, I think, the possibility of witnessing life’s autumn harvest and sunset masterpiece. Winter and darkness follow, and for fear of them we treat our elderly - and Dead - contemptuously.

I think you have your finger on something.

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