Written by Giannis Th. Patellis
In the ecclesiastical calendar, the days dedicated to the dead—known as Saturday of the Souls—are two: the Saturday before Carnival Sunday and the current Saturday of Pentecost. However, beyond the religious ceremonies, acts of honor and remembrance for beloved departed ones are a daily concern for their families—especially for the Kalymnian woman. Emotions abound, and the faithful observance of customs and religious tradition brings a soothing relief to the pain of permanent separation.
The scheduled memorial services and offerings during the first year after death are observed with reverence and strict care. The annual liturgy when a full year has passed since the beloved’s death, the commemoration list (list of names for prayer) and the prosphoron (offering bread) during Sunday services, preserve memories and ease the sorrow of eternal loss.
In recent years, the large portraits of the deceased—framed in broad black borders and once dominating the narrow living rooms of old Kalymnian houses—have entered the museum era alongside them. In modern living rooms, discrete photographs of beloved dead, in slim frames, are now placed on a sideboard or a small table.
Tending to the grave is also a significant duty of honor for the deceased’s family. The island’s cemeteries reflect many aspects of our character. One might say the interior layout of these places—their arrangement—corresponds entirely with the nonexistent urban planning of our settlements. In most cemeteries, there is not even basic alignment of the graves, nor spacing to allow for easy and respectful access. A hopeful exception lies in the more recent additions to older cemeteries (such as Limniotissa).
Cemeteries—places of eternal residence—represent the past. Our history reminds us of what has gone before. A visit to a cemetery on the island is like reading a page from our family or local history. The architecture of the tombs, their time of construction, and the materials used may create a mosaic of dissimilarity. But the names, birthdates, and dates of death of those resting there are inscribed somewhere. Thus takes place an imagined encounter—with the childhood friend who left too soon, the teacher from our early years, the priest who baptized us, the doctor who treated us as children, or the neighbor from the old neighborhood.
We may stand before the graves of politicians whose actions marked the recent or older history of the island, of great teachers who educated generations of children—not only from our island but from neighboring islands as well. We’ll also come across names of captains and sponge divers who roamed the coasts of Africa and the Aegean and wrote the epic of sponge fishing during its years of glory.
Cemeteries are cities of peace and silence. They come alive and gain movement shortly before sunset. Vespers is the official hour dedicated to the graves. A multitude of black-clad women—silent myrrh-bearers of daily duty—spread across all corners of the cemetery. The tombs are meticulously cleaned, and the memory lamp is lit. It will keep vigil all night beside the loved ones who rest in the places of eternal dwelling. And this has its symbolism. It carries, from generation to generation, a message of faith in eternity.
Kalymnos, early June 2025.
