When Life is Ended

Last week I wrote about our old friend Fedir, who seemed to be nearing the end of his life. Fri morning we learned that he'd passed away the day before. Yesterday a group of around 20 of us celebrated Thanksgiving early. True to tradition in many homes, we each shared something for which we are thankful. What's been on my mind since hearing of F's passing: I'm so thankful he didn't have to face another winter. I'm so glad he could go before winter truly set in. I'm thankful he could go. 

Ukrainian fun'ls generally happen very quickly after the death; this one was Saturday morning. A handful of people from 3 corners of Ukraine simply dropped what they were doing, threw some things into backpacks and jumped onto buses...and by early Sat morning, Dima's house was full of tired but happy (maybe thankful is a better word?) travelers. K and I cancelled our plans and got D's house ready for guests. Cooking. Making beds. Putting out towels. (I LOVE to make beds and do towels. And I love to do that at D's- it's so organized there! There's plenty of room.) We all piled into D's van and were on our way (having picked up funeral wreaths first) to the village by about 9.10. It's an hour's ride to F's village. We had a short service in F's daughter's house. Neighbors and family came and went. At 12 noon, a truck came to collect the body and we all walked (about 45 min) to the cemetery. Another short service and it was done. One life quietly and orderly tucked away. 

Funerals are for the survivors. And one thing about this one- we all spent much time reflecting on F himself, on choices he made and stuck with, on what his life had become and the very sweet release death was for him. And on this: God likes to finish His work. 

procession through town (Yes, it was very muddy and sloppy. A long walk to the cemetery but it warmed us up...and we were very much in need of warming up. No heat in the house where the fun'l had been, cold outside. We were individual blocks of ice. The walk felt good.)

Entering the cemetery

The Ushytsya River near F's house. His village takes its name from this river.

I'm glad I knew F. I will miss him. I'll miss the long drive out to his house. I'll miss the delicious grapes that grow on the arbor by the house, the wonderful pears from the tree in the yard. But most of all, I'll miss him. I'll miss hearing his stories. He had so much to share and I'm only just realizing that we didn't ask half what we should have. All older folks have much to share. The oldest generation here in Ukraine, however, has seen so much. They've survived wars and famine and several major changes in government- not just in officials but complete changes in government. F was born when his part of Ukr belonged to (Poland- I think)- before the red army and the Russians overwhelmed Western Ukr.

And for the record: When I'm buried- I want an Amish casket. I don't want a $10,000 overpriced funeral home special. I want a pine box made by an Amishman.