Hudson Valley Astrologer

At first when thinking about something positive a member of the family has done for me my thoughts race from my wife’s loving attentiveness and care, with little things, like bringing me a cup of coffee in the morning, assembling a salad on the days I head into the office, or making the bed together. Then my mind shoots to the kids who bring me incredible joy and wondrous stories of their day to day, age appropriate excitement, but also anxiety about their own journeys and the path ahead; surely, some variation of emotion related to similar themes I shared at their age. Or siblings who have at one time or another been there for me in ways that were supportive, when I was at my lowest. But about a year ago a cousin, helped organize a tree planting ritual to honor my sister who had suddenly passed away. The “circle” was one of the most positive things anyone has ever done for me.

Loss and the grief we experience can be inexplicable if we try and unravel its mystery alone. We are by nature connected to our families yet many of us, especially during times of loss and grief become isolated, even estranged, in a bereavement so profound that a darkness creeps in wherein we as the aggrieved become lost.

My cousin organized a ritual tree planting in the front yard of my 93 year old mother’s home. The gathering was small. Four of eight siblings, a 95 year old aunt, two cousins, my brother-in-law and husband to my sister, along with their four children, plus nephews and nieces.

As it turned out we planted a white oak seedling. My cousin reference a book called The Wild Edge of Sorrow by Francis Weller. We formed a large circle using assorted chairs and benches and chose a spot where a gigantic oak tree had lived to a ripe old age before it was taken down for safety reasons. This seedling was maybe a foot tall. Everyone brought mementos some remembrance of my sister, and when the circle began speaker started out by moving to the center of the circle, placing the item in a hole we had dug and then taking their seat to share whatever was on their minds. Nothing about the ritual was choreographed. The structure was loose and organic. My brother-in-law shared such a heartfelt and moving testimony in honor of my sister that there wasn’t a dry eye at any degree of that circle.

I tossed in a few acorns and puppy teeth. She loved her Labradors, just like me, and the acorns were a hat tip to Hillman’s acorn theory, rooted in his idea of the daimon as a guiding force, related to our individual and unique destiny in life and the importance of finding our innate purpose, our reason for existence. The truth of our temporal limitations are unavoidable in the circle but something wonderful and miraculous occurs in the healing connection we make with the Earth and each other. We are family.

In Ancient Greek mythology, Thanatos was a minor but significant figure, representing peaceful and non-violent death, as opposed to violent death, which was embodied by the Keres. Thanatos’ family included his parents who were Nyx (Night) and Erebus (Darkness). His siblings were Hypnos (Sleep), a twin brother Nemesis (Retribution), Eris (Strife), and Geras (Old Age). I like to think that my sister’s long dark night ended her strife and after she fell, she entered a peaceful sleep. Her positivity in the face of her many trials and tribulations overwhelmed any sense or need for retribution, but she’ll not have that coveted time belonging to Geras, to see her kids marry and have kids of their own. But the tree will. We’ll gather around it again, circle up and tell her story in that awe inspiring way that only family can.

HVA

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