Julia Gillis - Good Grief

“We don’t want people to shy away from grief,” says Julia Gillis. 

As effervescent as she is deferential, Julia spends her work days in an office in a Mausoleum, a distinction that very few others can claim.  As Director of Outreach for Minneapolis’ Lakewood Cemetery, Julia’s efforts make death a more normal part of life, and the physical grounds of Lakewood a place not only for reflection, but for human connection, intentionality, curiosity, and even joy.

Julia has not always appreciated death and dying, or even understood the importance of a place like Lakewood for a community’s identity.  “I was afraid of cemeteries when I was a child,” she recounts. “I remember my first job [as an event consultant] at Lakewood.  I showed up and it was strange.” 

23 years later and “strange” has become celebratory for Julia.  “Lakewood has wonderful treasures:  the chapel, the historic figures that are buried here, the architecture, and the beautiful artistic monuments.  It is a place that has so much to share with community,” she says.  “We have an obligation to the community.  We host these treasures.  We are working to be more welcoming and open.”

Lakewood’s Garden Mausoleum and Reception Center, 2012. Photo by HGA Architecture

Lakewood holds a prominent place in Minneapolis, both in location and purpose: 250 acres of green space, trees, elaborate statuary, and award-winning architecture on the southeast shore of Bde Maka Ska, just north of Lake Harriet.  The cemetery sits on the historic Dakota site of Heyate Otunwe or “Village to the Side” of sacred water.  At its inception – 1871 – the cemetery was well outside of Minneapolis’ city limits (Franklin Avenue was the city’s southern boundary then) and was designed in the “Garden Style” to draw visitors via horse and buggy to its manicured grounds.

At the time, people had closer and more consistent ties to a cemetery than many do today.  Life expectancy in 1871 was about 40 years at birth; death was a part of life.  Illness and injury were frequent and often fatal, and many did not survive birth or childhood.  Cemeteries, then, were an essential service for communities, and Lakewood - founded just 4 years after Minneapolis incorporated- unfolded in ways its founders imagined, and in ways they never could.    

Initial plans for Lakewood were grand:  winding roads on the hilly terrain, a small lake, and large on-site greenhouses to furnish colorful plantings for the grounds and to sell to families to decorate gravesites.  The late 1800’s saw a flourish of cemetery art around the country:  crypts and statuary in Classical, Egyptian, and Medieval Revival styles; obelisks; and Victorian or rustic glacial markers.  Those styles and more are present at Lakewood. 

Lakewood is non-sectarian and is run, to this day, as a non-profit and Community Trust, intended to be funded by and benefit community.  A casual glance denotes Swedish, Russian, Greek, Irish, Chinese and Hmong names on headstones; a more detailed search reveals monuments to city firefighters, Civil War veterans, victims of the 1878 Washburn A Mill explosion, circus performers, and numerous notable Minnesotans, including early abolitionists, women’s rights advocates, Minneapolis’ first licensed Black doctor, and scores of elected office holders, scientists, industrialists, musicians and poets.

Lakewood Chapel

Music and poetry frequently fill the exquisite Byzantine mosaic-tiled chapel (performances halted during the pandemic, but set to return) and broader programming fills Lakewood’s docket.  Julia says Lakewood’s forward-thinking Board of Directors is determined to keep the cemetery relevant, even as fewer folks partake in religious ceremony or think of death rituals at all.  “It can be challenging to bring music and life to the cemetery where there are ongoing funerals,” says Julia.  “We want to be careful how we program and engage.”  Guided meditation on the grounds, yes; an exuberant exercise class?  No.  And yet, as death and dying traditions evolve, Julia’s outreach and programming serves community in a contemporary way.  That means more and diverse gatherings on the grounds, welcoming visitors to walk the cemetery (especially during social-distancing), more on-line discussions, and a strong social media presence.  It seems to be resonating: “We have feedback from many families who tell us it is meaningful to have continuous grieving in a communal way.”   

A Living Memory Tree at Lakewood

Well-attended annual events like Memorial Day, Lakewood’s annual Lantern Festival, and historic walking tours continue (“We are outdoors!” exclaims Julia, “We can maintain safety!”).  Julia is excited about new, accessible experiences at Lakewood, too:  A Living Memory Tree where visitors tie ribbons with messages to the branches of a Japanese Lilac; a quarterly “Death Café” hosting conversation on death and dying; and group discussions on palliative care, art therapy, and the emerging role of funeral celebrants and death doulas.  “We are interested in helping people think about the death experience beyond picking out caskets,” Julia says. 

Lakewood’s annual Lantern Lighting

Cemeteries are no longer creepy to Julia, and she appreciates Lakewood’s energy and the idea-exchange mourners and city residents crave.  “We push a little, pull a little,” she says.  Her own comfort has grown with the “Death Positive” movement.  “I attended a ‘Re-Imagine End of Life Conference,’” she says, “and I discovered a whole world of new professionals helping people find meaning in death.  I want to help others be more intentional about death and dying.”  And to do that, Lakewood needs to be a vital community resource.  “Not just in death,” she offers, “but to offer intentionality in living.”

Julia wants to clear up another misconception or two, as well: “People don’t know Lakewood. The imposing gates can lead people to think that it is private, or that it is full, or that only rich people can be buried here.”  She is also certain that are options to anxiety, aversion, and denial of death.  A “good death” is possible, says Julia.  Her daily work is to re-frame death in more positive terms, both at Lakewood and in her daily life.  “We are not just a cemetery,” she asserts.  And then, smiling her lively, magnetic smile, she adds: “You don’t have to be solemn; you can laugh!  With good programming and appropriate spaces for gathering, families can express fond memories, and that is an important part of grieving.” 

Detail from the Dance of Death (1490) frescoes by Janez Iz Kastva, Trinity Church, Hrastovlje, Slovenia.

Resources:

Photos:  Tracy Nordstrom and Lakewood Cemetery

Lakewood Cemetery:  https://www.lakewoodcemetery.org/

Death Positive Movement:  http://www.orderofthegooddeath.com/

https://www.vox.com/the-highlight/2020/1/15/21059189/death-millennials-funeral-planning-cremation-green-positive

Medieval fresco:  detail from the Dance of Death (1490) frescoes by Janez Iz Kastva, Trinity Church, Hrastovlje, Slovenia.