Day of the Dead

Every story is a celebration of life.

I hate Halloween. Especially the costume part. I’ve always hated it - as a kid, as a parent. I hate the pressure to be creative and clever. I hate the rush to buy or - even more stressful - to make a costume. I found trick or treating to be stressful as a kid - wandering around asking for candy with hordes of other kids whose personalities seemed to change (and not for the better) when wearing masks. And threatening a trick if not given a treat? What kind of anarchy is that?

What I do love, however, is the tradition of Day of the Dead which happens this weekend. It’s a celebration welcoming back souls of deceased relatives. It’s believed people exist beyond their physical bodies - they live as long as their stories are shared. 

Now that’s a holiday I can get behind.

I have always had a profound respect for the dead. 

To me, the physical body is just one phase of our existence, not the only phase that matters. I’ve always sensed spirits and ghosts and rarely do they ever feel bad or negative. 

But, my whole life I lived in fear of my parents dying. I couldn't imagine a world in which I was alive and they were not.

During the years their health declined, I was so consumed with what the end was going to be for them. For us as a family. What might go wrong, were they going to get the deaths they deserved, were they going to be okay? Were we going to be okay? 

How could I possibly let them go?

Taking care of their ailing bodies and forgetful minds - managing the care around them - all of it was exhausting and stressful.

But I was stunned by what happened next.

When they did die - when they let go of their physical bodies - all of who they were, the fullness of them before their decline, rushed in. The lifetime of memories I shared with them and the stories about them I heard from other people - family/friends - rushed in. And that made my world with them bigger. Fuller. More alive.

My parent’s death brought more of them back into my life than I had experienced in their final years. 

I didn’t have to let go at all. I just had to let in.

And so, while I respect other people’s desire to dress up in costume and trick or treat, I’ll be honoring and celebrating my dead - those whose physical bodies have left but whose stories remain very much alive.