Holy Trinity, Toronto
Today I attended a ceremony for a young woman who died in a homeless shelter. Her name was Bev. Her life was hard and full of struggle. And there was a sweetness in her that was precious. Everyone who spoke about her today spoke of her goodness. One fellow described her as ‘the best person he had ever known’. There were examples of her poems and her paintings. Creativity was her release. I also remember hearing her anger at times for the injustices that have happened to Indigenous peoples, homeless people and women.
Her death was nearly a month ago and her community is raw with grief. She was home base for many people who live everyday in precarious situations and the pain of her loss was pulsing today. The church was filled with people who don’t usually come to sit in the pews, but instead they often make their way to the edges of the room. But today the room was theirs. At first it felt a bit chaotic but the power of the opening ceremony, first a smudge and then the drum, created a strong center in the gathering that provided an anchor.
The ceremony and the leadership of Indigenous women created a container that held people, even for a short time, who were flying apart with grief. There was time to sing, and to talk. There was a beautiful offering of art and some elements that created a respectful place to name this friend. There was a rightness about a community coming to together to mark their own loss.
I hope that these elements — a time to be together, a collective expression of grief, a time to feel respected and to comfort each other, were a even a small salve, a brief respite from the despair. At one point, when the ceremony was named as a celebration of a life, one woman called out, “yes, a celebration”. You could hear the conviction in her voice. For me this moment felt like grace, when through the fog of loss, there was a clear light that shone to say celebrate this life. It doesn’t replace the pain that is real in the community, but it adds another track to the song.
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