Gallows Humor #7: Burial by Moonlight

In the fall of 1986, there was one night when I buried several bodies in a private graveyard, and had an odd experience.  I make no claim that the experience corresponds to reality.  I had an experience.

After we started retrieving bodies from the trash in August 1986, it took a couple of months to enlist support from churches, and to start lining up proper funerals.  So in the early fall, there were some nights when we retrieved bodies from the trash, and then buried them the same night.

On this particular night, I was working alone, with three bodies to bury.  It was a clear night, with a full moon – a silent but brilliant moon, lighting up everything.  I am sure I had a flashlight with me, but I didn’t use it; there was no need.

I dug, and sweated profusely.  I don’t recall any insect noises, and certainly there were no animal noises; it was quiet, except for my shovel.  There was no movement, except for me and my shadow.

Halfway through the job, I had a strong sense that someone was watching me.  It is possible that I glimpsed the moon over my shoulder, and it got confused with an eye in my imagination.  But that wasn’t what it felt like; I felt vividly that someone was up above me, watching.

Sometimes a person will step into a room silently, and you will feel that presence, although you didn’t see anything, or hear anything, or smell anything, or feel any motion – at least not on a conscious level.  But you are sure someone is there.  So you turn to see who it is, and there’s the quiet intruder.  It was like that – a vivid impression, but not tied to sense data. 

More specifically, I believed – without any proof, without any sense data – that the mother of one of the children I was burying was watching me.  I didn’t change anything I was doing, except to pray that the little I did would be a comfort for her.  I completed the grave, then took off my hat and prayed for the children, prayed for their parents, prayed for the community that had learned to ignore death and destruction – and covered them up.  I had little to give, pretty close to nothing at all.  But at least those children were buried respectfully, prayerfully.

I think that someone was watching.  And I think it was a comfort to her.  I think she knew that someone could care for her child’s body and also be supportive of her.  I think she knew I would hug her if I could. 

I do not expect to meet her.  But I will not be surprised if I meet a woman one day who had a vivid dream the night after an abortion, a dream that comforted her – watching someone bury her child in a moonlit field.  Her dream – well, it wasn’t a dream.  May God grant her peace.