Ancestor Altars at home
A couple of weeks ago my father of 78 passed away suddenly on a trip to N. Carolina with my mom. We buried him last week in Pasadena, California, at the Episcopal Church and cemetery his ancestors brought to S. California. Someday I will write of that time, not now. I can say it involved an cross-country drive of epic proportions with my widowed mom, my adult siblings, two horses, and a 24 foot horse trailer complete with tornadoes, runaway horses, and the like. Racing cross-country, we made it in short order to bury my dad in the southern California soil that had been in his family for generations, and that spoke to him of older languid days of orange groves and eucalyptus trees.
Healing as that time was, and the many rituals of honor and love we bestowed upon him, I found it poignantly difficult to fly out of LA the night of his burial, thinking of his body alone in that Pasadena cemetery. 
Coming home to the Northwest, alone to the peacefulness of my house, and walking its sunlit rooms, I strongly felt the absence of a place to mourn him. I know we can mourn and connect with departed ones many ways and their spirit lives on in our hearts, but at these times the tangible, material symbols have a special place too.
What had been a vague future plan to build an altar to him became what I did that first day home. My way to find a tangible, focused and proximate way to mourn him. This small altar holds old photos, candles, rocks that my dad found in the Arizona washes and polished, semi-precious gems he collected, African beads he gave me, his last Oil and Gas Journal Magazine, and his favorite, magnolia branches.
This altar has been great for me. It gives me a place in my home to mourn him and remember him. It allows me to gaze someplace and see him, and to focus my love and remembrance and grieving upon it. So many cultures have rich traditions at the time of death involving family and home, and ours has very few. For me that has meant being inventive and creative. I now want to learn what other people and cultures do with ancestor altars for home and garden, and maybe I can share some of what I learn here later. Any ideas that readers have to offer about rituals from other cultures would be helpful. I still want to do more to honor my dad.
Creating things of beauty is always healing, and with my dad’s altar, creating beauty in honor of him has felt very good to my soul. I think as long as this altar remains alive to me, it will change, as new things speak to me of dad, as seasons and flowers come and go, and as the vast span of his life and being revisits me again and again.
3 comments
I love the idea of making altars to help us remember our parents after they have gone. When my mother died two and half years ago, I put a big framed picture of her on my dresser. Now I’m thinking of adding a few other meaningful objects to put around her photo as well. Thank you for sharing your experience with us from the heart. I wish you well.
Ellen
This is a beautifully written piece. Although my father died four years ago, you’ve inspired me to re-think how I honor him. While I honor him frequently in thought and action, I don’t have a physical reminder of him anywhere in our home. I am inspired to seek out photos and mementos, and place them in a carefully chosen spot. It is never too late to create such a space.
Jan–I loved what you wrote about your Dad and how you honor him. After my mother and one of my brothers died within 6 months of each other I felt so overwhelmed . I remembered a beautiful sculpture garden with works by Katy McFadden here in Portland. She sculps pieces for the garden so I found here, told my story, elicited her help in selecting 2 pieces for my back yard. I left them in her garden for 3 months when I was ready to bring them home. My family is all about the garden and so now I can look out or step out to see them.
Leave a Comment