All Saints, All Souls, and All The Company Therein

I've been feeling a bit morbid recently, dear readers.  It's because of a combination of things, I think.

Sleeping Angel, Highgate Cemetery; London

text: Requiem mass (translation: Lord, give us eternal rest)

My grandmother passed away in April, and we've spent the last few months disposing of her estate;  when my father and I went up to New York to pack up the furniture and personal items that we wanted to keep, I found myself caught over her books.  Grandma was an English professor and I knew that her interests were wide-ranging, but I had no idea that she had shelves upon shelves of political theory or classical psychology.  I took classes in each of those subjects while at college, but it never once occurred to me to discuss Hobbes or Freud with her - I wish it had.

Now that I have Charlie, I imagine my future more vividly.  Because he's here, right now, so full of personality, I can picture upcoming moments of my life - five years from now, or ten - in a completely new way.  He jumps up on the bed in the morning, his tail thumping the duvet, and I almost see Jon on the other side, grumbling about being woken up early but secretly loving the kisses the Charlie lavishes on him.  I pull on Charlie's ears and think of my child doing the same, Charlie rolling his eyes and grunting affectionately.  And then I think about how, after these things have happened, he's going to die, and I'm going to have a very long time left to live.

And for some reason, it suddenly hit me the other week that Jon's going to be my main person in ten months.  If something bad happens to me on August 23, the police or the hospital or whatever will call my parents. Once we're married, though, they'll call Jon.  In ten months, Jon's going to be my person, and I'll be his, and we'll have to make choices for each other, and that's a lot of responsibility.  Life is a lot of responsibility.

Love is a lot of responsibility - I think it boils down to that, actually.

It's strange to bring this up now.  We're in a time of joy - Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas are weeks of festivity and laughter.  But it's a time, too, to think about those who aren't here.  Today is All Saints' Day and tomorrow is All Souls' Day in the Anglican calendar, so it seems appropriate to remember and honor those who have gone before us.  It's also a reminder that the responsibility of love is also a gift - it's an amazing blessing to have these people in our lives, to cherish them so deeply and to be held the same way.  It's a gift in the same way that faith is a gift; I don't know how to put it into words, but, as I think about it, love and life and faith and trust and responsibility seem to bleed into each other more and more.

In Judaism, as in most traditions of Christianity, the mourners' prayer (or Kaddish) is full of praise and thanksgiving.  I like that.  In the midst of death there is joy and love and exaltation.  As you grieve, you rejoice in the blessing of life.

Arlington National Cemetery; photo via

text: Mourners' Kaddish (translation: exalted and sanctified be His great name)

Today is also the Royal British Legion's Poppy Day, when poppies are sold all around London to support and respect those who have served in conflicts past and present.  If you're in the UK, please consider buying a pin to remember those who sacrificed their lives for Britain.