a visitation

I just spent some time at a visitation for a little girl who died here in the village last Thursday.  I was nervous about going, unsure if I would be welcome, but I bought some oranges and asked a woman at the store if she thought it would be okay and where the house was.  It was pretty hard, but I'm glad I went.  I got to talk with the mom, Eskie, for a while; Acelynn was adopted from Pilot Station and had been having some ongoing health problems since Christmas--eczema, new allergies, and then she came down with pneumonia and I guess the antibiotics didn't knock it out.  Siri had pneumonia this year.  She's okay.

Bernie and Eskie are an older couple with some grown kids, and I'm not sure of the whole story--maybe they just loved kids and wanted more--but they adopted Acelynn some time ago, maybe when she was just a little baby, I'm not sure.  She would have been three next month.  I got to visit with their toddler grandson Clyde for a while.  He was interested in my hair and beard and glasses, charming and adorable.

Acelynn was laid out on a low platform on the floor with her little hands crossed on her stomach, a rosary wrapped around one.  I kept glancing over and imagining I saw her breathing; it was strange to watch closely and not see her chest move.  One of the impressions I got was that I was amongst people who were much more familiar with death than I am.

I stayed for quite a while, sitting quietly, saying pujas and refuges, and occasionally talking with people nearby.  I was offered some juice and a 7up, and I had a bit of fry-bread.  Finally I knelt down and put my hand over hers, said a final puja, and excused myself.

I don't really know what you can say about death.  A natural part of life, to be sure, but it's awfully difficult and sad to lose someone you care about.  Strange to think that a few generations ago, what happened here was a pretty normal thing that most families would have experienced.  Would it be less sad if it was more normal?
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A post-script:  Apparently, Acelynn had various health problems throughout her short life.  It was suggested to me that her biological parents may have been a little too closely related, which might have had a part in that.  Someone in town made a beautiful little coffin, as they didn't want to use a big one.  So now the body is lying in its final bed, wearing a lovely fur parka.

Going today was much easier than yesterday.  I had stopped at Lucy's house for a visit because she was out of town over the weekend, and she was there with her granddaughter Rayna, as usual, and also her daughter. It turned out they were headed over to the visitation as well, so I got a lift in a very nice borrowed pickup truck.  Showing up with some locals, and already being slightly acquainted with the family and the house and the idea of being in a room with a body, all made me far more comfortable than I was yesterday.  This made it much easier to just be in the space, share the grief, and try to realize compassion and wisdom for Acelynn and her family.

I took along a couple small boxes of food, the remainder of my too-large bush order, and again I was unsure if it would just be silly to offer them a bunch of raw ingredients, but they seemed pleased.  All in all, I'm amazed at how welcome I felt in their home.  There were loads of people there today, almost standing room only.  It was good to see, and I felt blessed and privileged to be a part of it.