Grave Faces VII

I'm always shocked by the number of slovenly child angels.

Doesn't anyone check them on the way out the door in the morning?



This one has pulled on a robe about four sizes too big.

Not that he is concerned.

Like most small boys he's more interested in what he is doing than in how he looks.


And by the way, he is writing something.


But whatever he had to tell us is long gone, the granite slate brushed clean

by decades of wind, snow and ice.

I mentioned in my last Grave Faces post that faeries are far less common than angels

in graveyards.

They do, however, dress more modestly.


Faeries are mischievous sprites, not always on the side of good,

and they predate Christianity.

I often wonder about the beliefs of the families that leave a faery in

charge of a burial site.


How deeply would you have to scratch some Christians to find a pagan?


Anyway, this one is pretending to be asleep.

Like the child who is buried under her.

Toddler angels often set out on their daily mission naked. 

At least this little fellow who is playing his fiddle so merrily, was able to grab a loin cloth.


Clothed or not, he seems to be saying that death is nothing to be sad about.


Easy enough for angels to say, I suppose.

Adult angels take their work, and their wardrobe much more seriously.


This fully clothed and lovely young angel's job isn't to tell us anything about heaven.

She is telling us about earth and mourning.

And we instictively recognize the path she is on.


This is the necessary time before 'the letting go'.

At first glance these two appear far too young to be employed in a cemetery. 



But consider this, they are still with the child they were called to watch over

 long after her grave has been abandoned by all who knew her in life.


Not so young after, all.

This isn't a very good photograph but I just had to include it because he looks so guilty.

He's obviously just returned from a dip in a nearby puddle.

And he wasn't expecting me.


But then I wasn't expecting him either.




A lovely end to my walk.

Grave Faces IV

Christmas is all about the birth of the baby Jesus, right?

So you wouldn't expect to find sculptures of the Holy Family in cemeteries, cemeteries being all about death, not birth, right?

They  do show up however, and in light of the Christmas season here are a few versions of the 'grave' Holy Family.

At this tomb Mother and son wear magnificent crowns.

Jesus is looking upwards - to heaven I suppose, but He gives me the impression that He is trying very hard to keep the crown balanced on his head.


Mary looks strained. Like most mothers she is weighed down with responsibilities

- never mind the part about being the Mother of God.

Anyone who knows the story would understand that Joseph's existential moment here is not just for the person whose burial they are attending, but also for his son.

This baby Jesus rests a hand on his father's cheek to comfort him and gazes sympathetically at the mourners.

 

Mother and son look down from the sky at the grave of the person whose burial they have been called to attend.

Such an implacable look on Mary's face. She knows that the fate of the deceased is out of her hands now.

Jesus, although still a toddler, blesses the body.


It almost looks like a formal departure at a train station.

The Holy Family has gathered for a burial in Thorold and Joseph, the old man, is chilled at the thought of death. We see it in his face when he looks directly at the camera.

Mary, is lost in prayer. Unlike her husband, she has no doubts about the soul's journey through the afterlife.

Once again, Jesus raises his hand in a blessing.

And just because it wouldn't be right not to include one,

and because some might argue that municipal politics is a bone yard anyway

Here is a picture of the traditional Christmas creche that stands outside of St. Catharines City Hall.


Enjoy these last few weeks before Christmas, everyone!