Candles Sit On Polish Graves
Szczecinek, Poland - it was damp underfoot.
“This place is massive,” my partner told me over the thud of the car door. I'm drawn to a booth to the right side of the cemetery entrance. A white wooden booth with a red metal roof, Znicze printed on its green canopy. Further down, a matching structure, both selling glass candle holders. Some are ornate with painted glass and religious symbols, in various sizes and shapes.
Today trade is good for the candle sellers. Those who do not have one seek out the red roofs before walking up the wooded lane to visit lost relatives, most accompanied by the ones they have left.
At a distance I don't notice anything unusual but as each row folds past, headstones sit on top of slabs - slabs that cover the entirety of the grave. Some are marble-like, others stone or granite. All placed in the same way - above, to protect what’s below. Perfect rectangles. Aside from the occasional block that appears to be made to resemble the lid of a coffin.
Accustomed as I am to the bureaucracy of headstones, I asked if names are added with each new occupant. "Often the entire slab and headstone are replaced” I'm told.
Each section is squared off by a hedge. Many graves have a seat to the side or front that doubles as a container for cleaning tools - brushes, cloths. Once you have taken the time to clean, you can sit with a loved one and rest. Standing by a grave now strikes me as formal - something reserved for the funeral, not to be done afterwards.
Candles lit the day before are still burning. Their glow is faint through the tinted glass, but still present. Every grave has a candle; some have many, while others, less tended, have one or two. With winter's daylight fading, the sea of flickering is overwhelming.
The Polish respect for the dead is clear. A land that has known conflict and prosperity, the memory of this ground is deep. On the way back, I pass a memorial to Russian soldiers who fought against the Germans in the Second World War to liberate the town. A broken stone arch that looks to have survived a battle itself.
Passing couples and families, I bow my head to an older man making his way into the cemetery alone. He is holding a candle.
We return home for Christmas dinner.