Day of the Dead

Now that I have a group of people that I miss, people who have died and that I want to remember, I have grown fonder of the concept of a day for the dead.  At a younger age, I thought the concept lacked appeal.  Who wants to contemplate loss?  Worse yet, thinking about them all at the same time?  No, I couldn't see the attraction.

This year I am feeling that it is brilliant.  In thinking about the people that I miss, I focus not so much on the loss but rather on what part of them is still in my life even though they are gone.  I embroider pillow cases because they remind me of not just my grandmother, but my grandmother's house.  It is a house that she hasn't lived in for almost 40 years, but that is the place that I think of when I think of her. I can almost smell the molasses cookies if I concentrate hard enough.  I leave my butter on the counter because it reminds me of my great grandmother.  I think of my father in law when I read books that I think he would like, and especially when I have a meal that I think would make him smile. 

Memories and keeping people in your life is a tricky business.  I wish that my brother had lived longer because I think that I would have learned a lot from him.  My living brother has a gentleness that reminds me of him--no one else really has that--I am not sure what side he got it from, or if it was the result of living in a wheelchair that taught him patience, but those traits completely skipped me.  Well almost.  I see some of it in a couple of my offspring.  But having a day when you allow yourself to be flooded with these thoughts is kind of like a gift from the grave.  Sad but also emotional in a pleasurable way--I find myself smiling and crying, being happy to have such a day, but looking forward to it being over.