Let's learn to love people
How to cherish and remember?
The quote by Wislawa Szymborska, "Let's learn to love people. They leave so soon," captures a poignant truth about the fleeting nature of life and the importance of cherishing those around us.
Yet, when it comes to how we remember those who have left, the rituals and traditions surrounding death can seem puzzling, especially for those who aren’t inclined towards the sentimental.
Douglas Adams once mused, "Looking up into the night sky is looking into infinity — distance is incomprehensible and therefore meaningless." This perspective challenges us to reconsider not just our relationship with life, but also with death and the ways we commemorate it.
If you come from a family steeped in religious beliefs and customs, you may find yourself engaging in rituals without fully questioning their purpose.
As a child, I remember finding graveyard visits strange and unsettling, starkly contrasting my grandmother's passionate devotion to them. These outings often led me to ponder the mysteries of life and death, sparking a whirlwind of thoughts about my own eventual demise.
With time, I’ve become less sentimental about such traditions. The idea of marking our passing with a tombstone that reads, “Free WiFi” to encourage visitors once seemed amusing. But in an era where everyone carries a 5G connection in their pocket, such gestures feel redundant. My children, who currently mimic adult life by playing with toy bank cards, will undoubtedly find more meaningful places for reflection than a cemetery.
For me, the idea of cremation feels more practical. The thought of occupying space in the ground, encased in an expensive wooden coffin, seems wasteful. After all, even the cheapest coffin would be costly given my height! In the U.S., there’s the option of dividing a loved one’s ashes among family members, allowing them to keep a part of the deceased close. But in many places, even the simple act of spreading ashes in a meaningful location can be fraught with legal and logistical challenges.
Culture, religion, and tradition play significant roles in shaping our views on death and memorialization. However, I believe that our memories are where our loved ones truly live on. So, why the need for graveyard visits? Perhaps it’s time to rethink these customs and create new traditions that allow us to honor the dead without the need for somber strolls among tombstones.
Imagine a future where gravestones are replaced with simple, eco-friendly markers that say, “Here lies [Your Name], who finally got some rest. No WiFi, no GPS. Find me in your heart.” Such an approach would spare future generations the need to navigate graveyards, dodging poetic reflections and philosophical musings. In the digital age, isn’t it enough to live on in the collective memory of the cloud, accessible with a mere swipe or tap?
This isn’t to suggest we eliminate cemeteries entirely. They hold historical, cultural, and artistic value. People from all over the world travel to see the resting places of icons like Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, George Eliot, and Bob Marley. In Europe, cemeteries like Père Lachaise and Highgate are as much open-air museums as they are places of rest. Italians, too, are renowned for their funerary art, making their cemeteries a testament to cultural heritage.
But for the rest of us who aren’t destined to become cultural icons, perhaps we can find solace in knowing that our legacy will live on in the memories of those we leave behind — not necessarily under six feet of earth or beneath an overpriced marble slab. A more lighthearted, cost-effective approach to death might be just what we need. After all, why shouldn’t our final resting place reflect the levity we might wish for in life?
