Facing the Unexpected:
A passing in Kriva Palanka
by Dan Kearney
Mid-March brought a great tragedy to our town. A young English teacher at the high school who was also my counterpart
died suddenly. Her name was Alexandra and she was twentyeight years old.
She had been in the hospital, but there had been no indication
that it was anything life-threatening. Three days prior to her
death, Alexandra had sent me a text message about her classes
that I was covering. Things seemed normal. Apparently, the
situation deteriorated quite rapidly.
The town was devastated. Alexandra was quite popular—
bright, outgoing, quick with a joke. Now her picture can be
seen all over town, part of those traditional Macedonian death
announcements posted on so many telephone poles. It reads:
“On 17/3/2008 died our beloved wife, daughter, sister, and
daughter-in-law.” There’s even one posted on the main entrance to the high school. These announcements will remain
up for one year or until the weather tears them down, which
ever comes first.
The day of the burial was difficult. The teachers gathered at
the high school and walked together with flowers to the house
of Alexandra’s parents. Jillian and I joined them. At the house,
it was something like a wake. We lined up, along with others
who had come to pay their respects, and filed in slowly. It was
an open casket, which I have to say neither Jillian nor I were
really prepared for. Everyone lit a small candle and placed it in
a large bowl of sand beside Alexandra’s body.
The hardest part about this was seeing the students. Alexandra’s class (she was their advisor of sorts), a group of 25 sophomores, were there together and really shaken by the whole
thing. Hearing their sobs as they exited the home was probably
the day’s nadir.
During all of this, Jillian and I felt a bit awkward—we really hadn’t known Alexandra all that well—and because we
are still relative newcomers to a very tight-knit community, we
feared that perhaps we would be seen as imposing a bit. But
really, I don’t think anyone gave us much thought one way or
the other.
A few hours later came the actual burial. By our estimate, at
least one thousand people gathered for this event (the town’s
entire population is only 15,000). A small brass band played
a song as the casket was moved from the house to the hearse.
The song’s tone surprised me—it wasn’t a d irge, but was al-
most upbeat. It contrasted
enormously with the swelling
procession walking behind the
hearse.
Then it was on to the burial:
the band played a short number, subsequently replaced by
a chorus of sobs clearly heard
in the quiet of the cemetery.
Many gathered there came
forth to throw dirt on the casket before departing. The event was full of familiar faces: the
woman who sells us our vegetables, our neighbors, and the guy
who cut my hair and who once told me how much he admired
Alexandra and how lucky I was to be working with her.
Many from our town, especially friends, family, and coworkers, grieved very publicly that day. There were dramatic outpourings of despair and loud wailing and sobbing at both the
home and cemetery. But like a severe spring storm that is gone
as quickly as it arrived, the collective sadness soon dissipated
and things felt back to normal within a couple of days. At the
high school, where many of Alexandra’s closest friends work,
there were smiles and laughter by the end of the week.
From my vantage point, it appears as though a great emotional cleansing occurred that day. By holding nothing back,
grieving friends and family were able to let go all the more
easily.
And it happened so quickly. A little over twenty-four hours
after her death, Alexandra was laid to rest and the most intense
grieving was over. This contrasts a good deal with the traditions surrounding death in America, particularly when compared to Catholic families, in which the customs surrounding
death are rather drawn out.
During Pre-Service Training, we had sessions on Macedonian traditions, such as birthdays and weddings. I don’t recall
if funerals were mentioned, but it’s no matter. This was less
about the cultural differences between funerals at home and
those here, and more about witnessing anguish in a small town.
A true small town, where most people never leave except to
attend university two hours away and then surely return. Alexandra had done just that and her family is undoubtedly known
by every other family here. She will be missed.
spring/summer 2008 - 11