ON THE HISTORIAN'S MIND - Descansos

They are called descansos - a Spanish word that means resting places. I see many of these roadside crosses on my migratory trips to Texas - tragically more new ones with each visit. These memorials are created and erected by family members or friends to mark the sites of automobile accidents resulting in violent, unexpected death - the last place on earth that a loved one was alive.

Their origins are as diverse as their decorations. Author Rudolfo Anaya in his book Descansos: An Interrupted Journey writes: "In the old villages . . . . the coffin was often shouldered by 4 or 6 men. Led by a priest and followed by black-dressed mourning women, the procession made its way from the church to the cemetery . . . . if a far distance, the tired men would pause to rest, lowering the coffin and placing it on the ground. The place where it rested was called the descanso." And, the mourning women would mark the spot with a stone cross.

Others say that early pioneers, with no time to properly bury their dead, dug graves beside trails and erected markers so that passersby could pay their respect. Still others believe the custom to be of European origin, reminders of shepherd's sanctuaries in fields or miniature churches along Greek roadways, much like the sanctuarios along New Mexico's mountain drives.

Regardless, all descansos express the shock of unanticipated death. Many tell a story of seasonal visits and communicate through notes, favorite objects, and photographs. As they weather and colors soften, they speak of healing.

I see the descansos - but I'm not sure I truly perceive their significance. Can anyone adequately revere and appreciate the beliefs, the losses, the aesthetic values of strangers?

I think of the descanso as a tombstone that marks not a place of burial but a place of transition. The descanso is just as meaningful as a gravesite - perhaps more so, because of the personal artifacts that adorn the crosses.

Life is, after all, a journey. And, the place where life ends is as rich with purpose and meaning as the place where life begins.

The descanso stands silently, splendidly - a sentinel of grief and loss, yet commemorating life - and leaving for those of us who came after a most personal glimpse into the lives of those who went before.

Written Spring 2001