On October 25, 2013 I visited the gravesite of my parents. I hadn't seen my parents since I left for India to become a monk in 1987. Since then they have both passed away. They disowned me after I became ordained. I was not fine with this but I had no choice. We had tremendous conflicts. Conflicts for years till I finally left home at 15. I wanted to become a monk and was determined. I had to sacrifice quite a lot to be ordained. They were against it and they had their reasons.
My parents were *Kalmuks. Kalmuks people are Mongolians and they have their own republic in Kalmykia which is in Russia. My parents along with hundreds of other Kalmuks migrated to the USA in the 1950′s and 60′s. At this time as they are Asians, they were not allowed to enter the USA. USA's immigration policies did not favour Asians. But because Kalmuks lived in the European part of Russia and their names sounded Russian, it baffled the immigration authorities of the time. And the many Russians also were immigrating together with the Kalmuks helped. The Kalmuks have very close ties with Russians for centuries. Even with such close ties, the Kalmuks kept their culture, language, Buddhist religion and customs well in tact when they immigrated. The fellow Russians immigrating vouched to authorities that Kalmuks were 'not Asians' but Russians too!! On that basis they were allowed into the United States.
The Kalmuks lived closely to the Russians in Howell, New Jersey. There were Kalmuks scattered in Philadelphia and New York also. The Kalmuks and Russians shared much together that even in death, the Kalmuks are buried in Russian cemeteries in New Jersey.
This is a beautiful Russian orthodox church in Jackson, New Jersey (near Howell) and the Russians and Kalmuks are buried together. It was here I visited my parents who are buried side by side.
Many of my relatives, friends from childhood and elder people I grew up with are buried here also. Some of whom I did not know had passed away. It was strange to say the least to see so many people I knew while growing up, buried here.
The whole cemetery was empty except myself and my companions. It was very quiet and peaceful and my first time there also.
I brought offerings and items to perform a prayer for my parents and all the people buried in this cemetery. The day we arrived was a crisp October with good weather. I was able to do a good prayer (puja) and dedicate merits to my parents, relatives and friends here in the cemetery.
It was poignant, sad and strange. The tears didn't flow while I was at the cemetery, but it all came out in torrents when I returned to the hotel in the evening. I guess seeing the gravesite and the 'reality' of their deaths only hit later when I was alone in my room. When I return to my parents 26 year later, they are dead. I am at their gravestone.
I bought red roses for my mom as they were her favorites. My mom loved roses. I love her.
Tsem Rinpoche
(*There are various spellings for Kalmuk. You do a search it can be Kalmyck, Kalmuck, Kalmyk, etc. I have spelled it differently in other blog posts also)
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24 авг 2024
