Halloween and Cemeteries

---

I love when people go all out decorating for Halloween. When I was a child, my favourite yards were the ones people transformed into a spooky graveyards. On Fridays, my dad and I would share a bag of chips and watch Buffy (the Vampire Slayer) stalk through cemeteries, in her leather jacket, fighting evil. My sister and I would hold our breath while driving past cemeteries. They were places of scary stories and superstitions. But now, having really experienced a cemetery, my perspective has completely changed.

A Place of Connection

After Jake died, we spent as much time at his grave as we could. Wherever his spirit might be, I felt close to him there. I sat with him on sunny days and read him books. I played guitar in a tent while rain fell softly around me. I belted out songs to the sky, as orange leaves fluttered down from a giant maple. When winter roads were impassible, I trudged to him, through snow-covered trails, pulling his twin, Robin, in a sled behind me. It was a place where my love and attention could be 100% directed toward Jake.

A Place of Community

I saw other people visiting their loved-ones. We would introduce ourselves and tell each other about the people we were there to visit. We would acknowledge each other’s love and loss, and we would promise to say hi to each other’s loved-ones when we were there. It felt like a neighbourhood.

A Place of Love

Sometimes I would wander through the cemetery and look at the other gravestones. I took extra care to clear snow away from children’s gravestones, or leave little seasonal decorations for them. Robin and I often stopped to look at one gravestone in particular. It was for a teenager. The gravestone had a fairy sculpture built into it and there were childhood toys around it. It was always decorated beautifully for the holidays. I decided to reach out to the mother. I found her online, and as we chatted, I found out something profound. She had been stopping by the other children’s gravestones as well, including Jake’s. As I started connecting with other mothers I met there, it turned out we were all doing this. It gave me comfort to know that when I couldn’t be there, mothering Jake, other mothers might be. There’s something universal about the love of mothers. Even there.

A Place of Family

I often bring my children to visit Jake’s grave. We have family picnics and fly kites in the field that is not yet filled with gravesites. When the pandemic started and most public spaces were closed, the cemetery was our refuge. The kids ran bare-foot through fields of dandelions, played with watering cans, and raced to their favourite monuments in the older section. It was like our own secret garden; Like a gift from Jake.

As Darkness Descends

I have sat at Jake’s grave as day turns to night. It is a beautiful sight. As the orange sky turns to deep blue, little garden lamps light up. A few at first, then gradually, the rest, as the last rays of sun sink below the horizon. It’s like watching the stars come out. Each light is a beacon, put there by people whose love out-lives death. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out (John 1:5).

So, What About Halloween?

I don’t mind the pretend Halloween graveyards. It’s all in good fun, but I now know just how pretend it really is. Real ones aren’t like on TV. If you go to the Kincardine Cemetery on a dark, fall night, and you see a girl there in a leather jacket, it’s not Buffy fighting evil. It’s me, embracing love.   

---