Burial or cremation?
It is true that the title of this post, as the theme, is not very funny. We will soon approach of All Saints, where we celebrate the dead with a day early, because in reality this festival should be celebrated on November 2. But it is not this that inspired me close this post but the funeral of a family member.
According to the will of her late husband, my aunt would have preferred to be buried, also asked to be cremated. The ceremony was the first cremation I attended and it is with anxiety that I went there. After a short religious homage family joined the crematorium where we were met by a representative of the funeral. A few words spoken, a final salvation and we give up the coffin to get to the adjoining lounge.
The officer of the funeral we asked if we want to attend, camera inserted at the entrance of the coffin in the crematorium. No one appears and it tells us that we can come back in about two hours to retrieve the ashes of the deceased. We start a family we eat and so far my fears seem unfounded. These funeral was something unreal, totally abstract.
Only when we come back together two hours later I felt a shock. The man who goes before us to reach the garden of memories, and he called the place of dispersion, rigid work holding in his hand a small box. He invites us to put ourselves in an arc, indicating to pay attention to wind direction, and begins to slowly spread the ashes under a tree.
And then I feel this gesture as an act of extreme violence. I am looking at death, the annihilation of all life. One person, a woman, a wife, a mother, grandmother and great grandmother is reduced to so few. In remembering this scene the tears come to my eyes. There remains no trace of this life, it's like it never existed.




























