Can I grieve properly without a grave to visit?

DEAR BEL, MY HUSBAND and I don’t have any children and all our siblings live far away from us.

We made a conscious decision that we would be cremated and not buried, as there will be no one to tend a grave.

My husband is now terminally ill and while I still agree with the above sentiment, I think I would find it difficult not to have somewhere to ‘visit’ (like a grave) to pay my respects.

I am sure I am not alone in this thinking and wonder if you have any solution.

LYNNE

YOUR e-mail (short and to-the-point) contains deep emotion, taking us to a subject that has preoccupied humankind for centuries: how to commemorate the dead. Over the years this has been a great interest of mine; I once made a Radio 4 series on the subject, called Rites Of Passage. I’ve stood next to a human skeleton laid in a rock niche in the Australian outback and apologised aloud for disturbing its rest; I’ve walked on bones in an Ethiopian cave; and tipped-toed over in silence through the skull- lined catacombs of Paris.

Since childhood I have loved to wander in graveyards, believing that the long-dead can still be respected, even when all their own ancestors have gone. Perhaps that’s why I own two gravestones (one 17th century, one 18th) and feel, strangely, that I am a custodian of memory.

So yes, I know how much this matters and that’s why I chose to print your letter. This issue is confronted by many people, especially in a secular age when a short cremation is the norm — followed by...what?

Sometimes people are at a loss to know what to do with ashes. Regular readers of this column will know that I believe in the power of ritual to ease hearts and minds, and often recommend that readers devise their own to help them cope with loss or great emotional pain. This is what I would like you to think about. At the moment, you are having to cope with the sorrow of your husband’s diagnosis and the contemplation of a future on your own — and I can only wish you strength with that.

Although the rest of your family is a distance away, I do hope you have a network of friends to support you — and that when you are in mourning you will contact a local bereavement charity in your area, if you feel the need of such support.

But to your question. Although tending a grave can be a real act of love, surely it isn’t necessary for remembrance? If you have a garden, you could bury your husband’s ashes there and plant a small, pretty tree (the exquisite salix hakuro nishiki is a good choice) to watch over them. Tending the tree (or per- haps a fragrant rose) could be a ritual that would bring you some peace.

Then, I always love it when I see a bench in a park or at a beauty spot, with a name carved on it and the words: ‘He always loved this view.’ You could do something like that, especially if you don’t have a garden. Or put the bench in your garden by the tree.

Another idea is to look into is a woodland burial. This movement has been growing recently and I love the idea myself.

In a nutshell, the idea is that a loved one is laid to rest in a beautiful, natural site which you can visit while you can — but that, in the end, all becomes a part of the glorious natural world. You might look at this notion, which is at once ancient and very modern.

Finally, I would suggest making a special little corner at home (I hesitate to use the word ‘shrine’ in case people think it is too much, although I love shrines) where you put photographs and flowers and light a scented candle every time you want to remember your husband and the good life you shared.

You can talk to him there — and realise that peace and love and sadness and acceptance are everlasting.