Remembering the souls that have gone before us
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- November 5, 2023
- 1242
By the time you read this, we will be home, securely back inside the invisible borders of Holmes County. We will be home just in time for my nephew’s wedding, just in time to vote in an important election on Nov. 7. But right now it’s Halloween Day deep inside Mexico.
My mother-in-law and I have set up the ofrenda for Dia de Los Muertos, and a picture of my own mom and dad is tucked between lush cempasuchil (marigolds), candy and fruits that are put out for the visiting almas (spirits) that will cross the veil to visit us this night.
Last evening as we sipped coffee in the outdoor kitchen, the cracked oilcloth that was once a bright yellow glistening in the waning light, my mother-in-law told us that from Oct. 28-31 the souls that will visit us — our loved ones — are flying around in the air, awaiting their time to visit. She is nearing 80 with no reason to make things up, and as she stirred her tea, she elaborated as we sat in rapt wonder.
I know, if you haven’t grown up in a land that embraces this outward belief in the spiritual realm, you’ll reject it outright. You might even say it’s evil because it’s what you’ve been taught, but to think my mom, now passed away six years ago, might visit a warmly lit table with her favorite offerings I’ve laid out for her? I find it oddly comforting.
I also understand these very acts are carried out each year with infinite love in every heart. Gravestones are cleaned and flowers are arranged, gorgeous altars are filled with beautiful flowers, and candles are set up to welcome those dear ones who have left us.
I look forward to this night. Back home my daughters have set up ofrendas of their own, ensuring the tradition will carry on outside of Mexico.
On Wednesday, All Souls Day, we will walk with my in-laws to the panteon (cemetery) and lay flowers on several graves and take part in la misa (the mass), which will be done in remembrance of those who’ve passed.
Then we will eat tamales and drink champurrado de chocolate (a cornmeal drink) and celebrate until Nov. 2. It has taken me many years to deconstruct what I’ve been taught, to know the way others believe and do also is good.
To not think my ways are the only right way. Imagine believing only our path is correct?
The world is upside down right now, and to embrace what is good in each of us, to love and show tenderness, is what’s needed. Violence begets violence, no matter what anyone tells me, and we will never live in peace when violence is the first step. We cannot deny another’s humanity because of who they are, nor what they believe. We cannot wipe out those we believe are different.
It’s for this reason we must always examine what we’ve been taught, turn it over in our palms like a shiny rock and inspect it. Dissect it. Decide for ourselves what we keep, what we toss and what we offer up to the world at large. If we leave behind hate and violence, blinded to the pain and suffering of humanity, we have failed.
If the powerful are the ones who get to decide who lives and dies, than I’d rather be weak and live my life in peace — even if those who are powerful decide my life doesn’t matter.
Feliz Día de Los Muertos. May we always embrace the truth hidden inside the wind that blows through our hair or a smooth stone we find on the ground. May we pay attention to that soft niggling on the back of our necks that makes us turn around, that tells us something is off. May we always look in each others’ eyes and see the humanity that was placed there — and remember it.
Melissa Herrera is a published author and opinion columnist. She is a curator of vintage mugs and all things spooky, and her book, “TOÑO LIVES,” can be found at www.tinyurl.com/Tonolives. For inquiries, to purchase her book or anything else on your mind, email her at junkbabe68@gmail.com or find her in the thrift aisles.