Sunday, 2 November 2014

The smell of incense wafted in and out on a gentle breeze, and I marveled at the sense of calm and peace surrounding us.  The beauty of the setting was arresting:  the sun sank slowly behind the mountains in the background while rolling green fields stretched in front of us as far as the eye could see and roosters crowed in the distance...how could this be a mass grave site?  It was Titanyen, an area that was first chosen as a burial ground for victims of the earthquake; we continue to bring bodies there from the morgue at the General Hospital now.  We were there to celebrate All Souls' Day, and it was hard to reconcile the serene images before me with the knowledge of the immense suffering that I knew was buried only a few feet below us.  However, as I watched the group--volunteers, nuns, Haitians that had seen us arrive and had walked over to join us--trail Father Enzo around the graves, their singing jubilant, the meaning of the day was apparent.  We were there not to mourn our losses, but to celebrate all that we have been given.  It was haunting to be there, but it was also a privilege; I could think of no other place more appropriate to honor the lives of those who have gone before us.