Creating Rituals, Traditions, and Navigating Mourning Outside of Religion in Belgium
Writer's block is the worst... I have done, seen, learned, and experienced so much during my seven weeks in Belgium. But every time I sit down and try to reflect on what it all means, what greater message or understanding comes from it, or what would be worthwhile to write in a blog post, something stands in my way. Part of me thinks that a lot of what I have observed feels either very obvious and therefore not worthwhile to share as I feel many of you already are aware of these differences—mundane and potentially not different in any substantial way from how things are done in the United States, or so disparate that it is impossible for me at the moment to conceptualize how I could even begin summarizing everything into a cohesive post.
I'm writing this post, as unpolished as it will likely be, because I don't want to forget the headliner takeaways from conversations that I have had or the subtle nuance of how care is given and how that is reflective of culture. Maybe in reading this you can find a deeper profundity to these observations and make connections and hypotheses that I am unable to see at this time. I think that I may have reached the point in my Watson Year where my brain is forcing an unconscious decision for me—to fully participate and engage now and to make sense of it later. In my second quarterly report (I recently submitted my third), I was reminded that this is not only okay but at times encouraged through reiterating the intentionality of the design behind the Watson Fellowship: "One of the distinct characteristics of a Watson is that there is no end product, and in many ways this year is all about experiencing and leaving the concluding to a later date. It sounds like you are already doing so much of that. Continue to open yourself to as many new opinions and moments, just as you are doing and file them all way. You’ll have lots of time to figure out what it means later."
In Belgium, while the majority of adults still consider themselves Christians, most of them don't practice. According to a study done in 2018 by the Pew Research Center, figures highlight that in Belgium, 10% of the population are church-going Christians, 46% are non-church-going Christians, 7% belong to another religion or are unsure of how to identify, and 38% hold no religious affiliation. Those non-practicing Christians, in this study, also don't hold beliefs that necessarily align with Christian theology and teachings, yet hold some of the same general ideas. For example, they might not believe in a God as described in the Bible, but they do believe in a higher power or spiritual being.
Historically, many rituals and practices surrounding death, grief, and mourning come from religious traditions and spiritual beliefs. As generations and families in Belgium are moving further and further from organized religion and these standardized, structured protocols for how to navigate these situations, some have expressed feeling lost and not knowing what is the "right" way to memorialize/honor the life and death of their loved one and to cope with their grief. Religious practices (which frequently embed themselves into whole cultural approaches) have often provided a framework for communities for what to do, what to say, and how to get through those early days and the years that come—whether it is holding a wake, sitting shiva, or creating yearly ofrendas to remember those who have died.
These traditions can feel burdensome to some, and like tasks to do amidst their grief. But for others, they provide a pathway for navigating the grief and creating meaningful moments to reflect on, honor, and celebrate the person who died.
Without them, individuals are developing their own traditions, rituals, and practices to cope with death and grief that feels meaningful and personal to them. In Belgium, I have come across so many organizations that are helping facilitate this and providing some ideas and materials to families. I've worked really closely with Au-Delà Des Nuages, a group that takes memorial photos of babies who have died, including their families in the sessions. (You can read more about my experiences acting as one of these photographers here.) Another group, Berrefonds, provides a "koesterkoffer" or "cherished suitcase" to families who experience baby or child loss. Inside, there are memory books, bracelets to share with the deceased and relatives to maintain connections, resource materials, seeds to plant flowers as a memorial, a specialized cleaning cloth, a pinwheel, a decorative case for a lock of hair or other special token, canvases with ink to do hand and footprints, stuffed animals to leave with the deceased and the same kind to keep with family to provide comfort, etc.
Another group in Ghent, Belgium, started a page for families that experience miscarriage or stillbirth, called Shortest Lives. Here, families can upload an ultrasound with a cardiogram visual, and the platform is able to make the heartbeat of a stillborn child audible and visibly beating again.
The organization Reveil is creating a "#grievingrevolution" through hosting mouring, yet lively and celebratory, concerts at participating cemetarys on November 1st annually. They collaborate with other gried support organizations and are working to help families find a more personal way to grieve that suits their relationship with life, death, and their loved ones no longer with them.
A broader culture that addresses how to care for and look after those who have experienced the death of a baby or child in the immediate aftermath and during their bereavement is becoming normalized in more formal ways. This guides the practices and customs in Belgium. For example, in both the Dutch-speaking and French-speaking regions of the country, there are special, recognized terms for parents who have had a child die. In Dutch, this is sterrenouder (star parent). In French, it is parange (a mix of parent and angel). Although there is some controversy over the term "parange" among bereaved mothers, because of connections to religion and a believed "sweetening" or "softening" of the true reality, having a term at all does serve to combat the invisibility often felt by other bereaved parents who have no such label that is equivalent to terms such as widow or orphan.
Many of the organizations that I worked with and spoke to provide practical support in the immediate time period following the death of a baby/child. There are also several groups that provide peer support and conversational opportunities for parents in Belgium (or a specific region within the country) who have had a child die. In speaking with a psychotherapist who is acting as a perinatal loss consultant, I learned more about the culture of vulnerability in Flanders. He shared that it is not typical in the culture to be highly emotionally expressive, to share feelings, or to have emotional displays. The example he provided was that in the US, upon entering an event and meeting new folks, we might have a large smile, be very exuberant, enthusiastically share excitement about the event and the chance to meet folks, etc. Whereas, he would likely keep to himself and not intermix as much in Belgium—maybe he’d find a lone table to munch on some of the provided snacks before the event began.
Despite the presence of these groups, they were inaccessible to me, because they were extremly private by nature. To get parents into the space and into a place to share and be vulnerable in that way is a big step. Those groups must be closed and exclusive to those with those experiences because of the cultural hesitancy around the conversations in the first place.
The tide is changing, though. Belgium in 2019 had the 17th highest overall suicide rate and 6th highest female suicide rate in the world. This trend is now on the decline, and rates are continuing to drop. So things are improving, albeit slowly. Folks are becoming more and more willing to open up, have frank conversations about topics previously not discussed, and work to remove the stigma that exists. Having the discussions and bringing these topics into the light on both small-scale interpersonal levels, and also societally. Today in Belgium, there are celebrities who are sharing their experiences, popular TV shows have plot lines that tackle tough issues. There are quite a number of books for kids that talk about death, as well as the death of a sibling, even for those that they never had the chance to meet, available in Belgium, too. Just for example, here are two books from Belgium on this topic, Depuis que tu n'es plus là (written in French), and Waarom is het zo? (written in Dutch).
If you want to stay up to date on my blog, consider subscribing to be notified when I post!
Opmerkingen