The Interment Ceremony

From Mara's Chinese Sister, Olivia:

November 17, 2007
The Churchill Hotel
Washington
DC

We buried my friend Mara this morning.

The day started out cool and grey. As we got ready to depart for the Rock Creek Cemetery, the sun came out. It was one of those lovely late autumn days in DC. The sky was high and weightless, soft as if made of powdery blue chiffon. There were a few clouds, very thin and very far away. The pale gold sunlight was as gentle as a mist. Most branches on the hardwoods have started to thin. The sun warmed the colorful leaves, still on the branches or already on the ground. All the beautiful historical buildings along the way were resplendent in their grey sandstone, white marble and red bricks. A few days before Thanksgiving, the city felt quiet. There was a hush in the air as the caravan of cars moved slowly through the streets.

In the Rock Creek Cemetery for Foreign Service officers, Mara was to rest in peace alongside her beloved grandmother. The ceremony was kept simple and elegant, the way Mara would have appreciated. I stood on damp grass amid Mara's closest friends and family. The sun warmed the grounds and the dark-clad mourners. A tree with large, butter-yellow leaves stood directly above the tent in which the interment ceremony was held. Everything seemed to move in slow motion; I watched people cry silently; I watched those large, butter-yellow leaves dance in the wind and sun. Words were uttered but I could not quite register them. Music was played, fitting yet irrelevant. It has not set in for me yet, Mara's passing. I don't know if it ever will. It is so easy for me to imagine that my dear Mara is just busy, traveling in some far-away locale, making a difference in this world.

Then abruptly the ceremony was over. People lingered, as if not quite sure what to do. Slowly people walked to the family, to the mother, to the father, to the sisters and brothers, to Mara's companion David. I just met David today and I like him very much.

Slowly the crowd thinned. I was the last one to leave. I walked along the path in the cemetery, taking in everything, trying to remember everything of this day. I realized that for many years now, I have tried to emulate Mara in ways big and small, always like a younger sister. I have tried to live like Mara has lived, consciously, actively and fully. Now, since I get to stay in this world a while longer, I am going to take care of the things that Mara has left behind.

Life is a continuing exercise of achieving what we can and moving on to the next goal; of finding a place we belong and then leaving it behind again for a good cause. Then at some point it is no longer important where we come from and where we are going. It is no longer important what languages we speak and what we look like. We are in the moment we live, the place we are in, doing the things we are meant to do. We become true citizens of the world, with no borders to cross and no walls to confine us. The freedom would be complete then, and pure. If I ever get there, I know I will meet Mara again.

So today was just a new beginning, for me, and for Mara.