
An alter in Oaxaca |
Coping with Death: A Personal Story
Friday, November 14th Morning Edition
Vertamae Grosvenor searched for answers to her young grandson's
questions of "why?" when his father died. Grosvenor took her grandson, Oscar, to Oaxaca, Mexico, where
death, in its celebratory symbols and rituals, is inescapable. He found solace in performing
caretaking rituals in a cemetery and building an altar to his father, and in seeing others
grieving for their ancestors alongside him. Oscar found comfort in everyone being "even."
You can read the transcript:
ALEX CHADWICK, HOST: In the summer of last year, the son-in-law
of NPR's Vertamae Grosvenor was killed in a head-on car crash with a
drunken driver. It happened before dawn on the day that Vertamae was
to have put her then-8-year-old grandson on a flight to Chicago where
his father would have been waiting.
She struggled with how to help the child bear the loss of his
father. And she decided to turn to a culture different from her own.
SOUND OF BASS MUSIC IN BACKGROUND
VERTAMAE GROSVENOR, NPR REPORTER: My son-in-law Beau (ph), as he
was called, was a musician, a bass player. When his son and namesake
Oscar asked why, why did this happen to my dad, I choked, remembering
as a child how my elders were able to utter words of solace with ease
and certainly, but I couldn't. I felt that meaningful answers to
Oscar's "why?" required a faith deeper than I had at the time.
MUSIC RISES
One night, weeks after Beau's memorial service, I woke from the
deepest part of sleep with Oaxaca on my mind. Shortly after my mother
passed in 1993, I went to Oaxaca, Mexico on assignment during the Days
of the Dead celebration. Death was everywhere in Oaxaca. It was
impossible to avoid a direct confrontation. And yet, I came away
comforted.
Market in Oaxaca, Photo
Credit: Marina Grosvenor |
So, hoping to make it better, I decided to take my grandson Oscar
to Oaxaca.
SOUND OF MUSIC IN BACKGROUND AND MAN SPEAKING IN SPANISH
Death was everywhere in Oaxaca. In the markets, vendors sell
crystallized sugar skulls with sequined eyes, chocolate coffins, clay
skeletons. Death designs cut out of flowing colored tissue paper
dance around the city. Murals and paintings display death with a
thousand different faces. There are altars and offerings for the dead
in restaurants, churches, homes and hotels.
MUSIC RISES
In our hotel room, we built an alter for Beau, made of bought
things from the market in Oaxaca and treasured things that we'd
carried with us from home. It was Oscar's first altar.
Oscar Brown IV |
OSCAR, GRANDSON OF VERTAMAE GROSVENOR: I kind of like it that --
about the altar, because I, I put a lot of nice things, like my
necklace that has Jesus being born, on it. And I was gonna put my
watch, but since I put my necklace there it won't fit. I hope that my
dad will come to eat some candy or stuff, and he could probably smell
all these flowers from up where he is. So, I hope my dad could find
the altar, wherever he is.
GROSVENOR: The ancients believed life is the dream from which
death awakens us. When I read they buried food, drink, and personal
belongings with their dead, I recalled a similar custom among my
people, the Gullahs (ph), who call a funeral service a "home going."
PABLO, CEMETERY VIGIL GUIDE: We're in hoho (ph). Hoho
(unintelligible) in Oaxaca. These mystical people who come to welcome
the souls of the relatives. And then to -- so, when they arrive,
they, they, they have to feel the grace beautifully decorated, and of
course candles, flowers. And the whole family is waiting for them.
GROSVENOR: Pablo is our guide at the cemetery vigil for the
dead.
PABLO: To get to the cemetery, we must go this route.
GROSVENOR: This way, OK.
The sweet scent of the flowers and the sharp smell of the incense
and wood smoke fill the air. Lamp and candle flames turn the dark
night orange red. The graves are adorned with the favorite things of
the departed. And flowers, flowers, and flowers. Oscar discovers
some placed too close to the candles.
OSCAR: Yeah, this one's burning those top leaves down. See,
this one's burning them. This one's burning those.
PABLO: OK, so I'll fix this one and you go around and fix the
other one.
GROSVENOR: No one seems to mind Oscar and Pablo moving among the
graves, putting out flower fires.
PABLO: OK, yes. That's better now. Can you move the -- can you
move the candle a little bit toward me?
OSCAR: No.
PABLO: No. It's...
GROSVENOR: Move the candle a little bit, Oscar.
OSCAR: Perfect. I saved it.
PABLO: OK.
GROSVENOR: You saved it.
PABLO: Yes. Great.
OSCAR: But now...
GROSVENOR: Family reunions are going on all over the cemetery.
People are talking, eating, and communing with their relatives, living
and dead.
OSCAR: They're feeling what I'm feeling, but in a different way,
because somebody else died in their family. And I think they're under
a lot of stress, too. So, everybody here is even.
SOUND OF PEOPLE SPEAKING IN SPANISH
GROSVENOR: Back at the hotel, I ask Oscar what he meant by being
"even."
OSCAR: Everybody lost a mother or father or aunt when they get
real, real old. Or they could die in a car accident like my dad, or
they could die from breast cancer like my auntie, or they could just
die normally like my great,great grandmother. It's kind of hard to go
through with whoever died and can do it, you gotta -- you just gotta
go on and go on and go on. You can never give up on your ancestors.
GROSVENOR: I came to Oaxaca hoping to make it better, hoping to
help Oscar find an answer to why death came for his dad. We left
Oaxaca without answers, but we came away comforted.
Did you feel his presence any time you were here?
OSCAR: Yeah.
GROSVENOR: When?
OSCAR: When I was sleeping, I felt something scratching me, and
I wasn't.
SOUND OF BASS MUSIC IN BACKGROUND
GROSVENOR: What do you mean?
OSCAR: When I was asleep, I, like, felt some -- a wet, some wet
things, like on my cheek right here and -- and I felt something wrap
around me like this. And that's, I think it was my dad giving me a
hug and a kiss good night.
CHADWICK: NPR's Vertamae Grosvenor is a writer who lives in
Washington, DC. Her story was produced by Latino USA's Maria Martin
(ph), mixed by Jim Wallace, and edited by Sharon Green.
The story's part of a series, "The End of Life: Exploring Death
in America," which continues on MORNING EDITION and other NPR News
programs over the next several months. More information about the End
of Life series is available at our website at npr.org.
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