A Day of the Dead reflection

Pretty soon, in many parts of Mexico, families will make Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, altars to remember and welcome their loved ones who have passed.

When I first wrote the following reflection about Día de Muertos a few years ago, I could not imagine that so soon, I would be selecting the pictures of my dad to place on my altar this year.

And as I ponder the photographs, the flowers, the food, the water and the special goodies that I will put out for him, I remember that I will place these things in a way that will feel welcoming to my dad.

This is how we prepare the altars for our dead.

In a way that makes a special place for them.

Where there is room for anyone they want to bring along to the party.

And in a way that makes room for everything.

Room for wonder, grief and curiosity about the pieces of their stories we will never know.

Room for gratitude and awe at all that they did to live and love as best they could, with what they had.

Room for the knowing that just like us, they had a deep human need to be loved, cared for and seen.

Room for the deep sadness that they had to go.

Room for the remembering that they are always there.

Room for the knowing that our journeys, growth, and freedom are enriched by, and also enrich, theirs.

And that the very love that they sought to know deeply, is the same love and connection that we practice turning towards every day.

And also, I wonder…

What if we made little altars for all of the stories, beliefs and patterns that we have left behind?

What if we made an altar to the way we used to judge ourselves and others so harshly without thinking twice? To the ways we used to say yes to every request made of us because we didn’t even consider the sacredness of an honest no? Or perhaps the ways we said no to everyone, because we were too afraid to let anyone in?

What if we made a little altar to all of the protective strategies that served us well when we so badly needed them in our early years?

What if we could take the time to honor how those stories, beliefs and patterns served us? To view these past versions of ourselves with the wonder, grief and curiosity with which we might view our ancestors’ efforts to be known, loved and seen.

What if we could acknowledge all of the ways in which we are now able to move through life’s ups and downs with more grounding, connection and sustenance? Without discarding the important steps and stumbles that got us here?

To honor where we have arrived at this moment. Including the protections, mistakes, and brave decisions that got us here.

To recognize that the version of human, parent, partner, children and so forth that we are today, will cease to exist tomorrow.

What if we could remember that there is room within us and within our families for the continuously evolving nature of our relationships with ourselves, each other, the collective and the divine?

That we can grieve the stories and expectations we once thought were best for us, and can now see did not serve our highest values.

That there is room to grieve the things we wanted for ourselves and our children, and that we realize are not in our hands to secure. Perhaps a certain temperament, family configuration, or maybe just a general ease in life...

What if we make room to grieve the illusion of control; as we practice embracing fierce love with no guarantees?

What if there is space to grieve all of the things we didn’t know then; and to acknowledge our current efforts to live our way into a more honest and felt relationship with ourselves and our loved ones?

What if we choose the practice of seeing grief as a reminder that we all experience loss? That everyone's losses hurt, and that we are meant to remember and bring care to ourselves and each other when they do?

And that being with our pain is not a detriment to our growth. But rather the very path to growing.

Growing that brings healing and love not only to ourselves, but to those who came and went before us. And to those who will follow.

Dear parent, just as in this season many honor their loved ones on a Day of the Dead altar, I invite you to honor all of the parts of your story that would appear on your little altar.