Today is the Day of the Dead in Mexico, Dia de Los Muertos. People celebrate children who have died today.
They put marigolds, favorite foods, candles, on altars and go put flowers on graves and clean them up. It's a day in many traditions where people feel the veil between worlds growing thinner, where those who have gone on draw closer to our realm. The Fall is seen as such a time.
And I like this. It's supposed to be happy, not sad. Celebrating our love for our families and friends. But for children, I don't see how there is not some sadness included.
I wrote about this in my breath email today and just started crying as I typed. My son, my son it is still so hard to believe. Writing to people about him brings the tears. I celebrate him through tears. I wanted to put marigolds on his grave but it is too cold for the nurseries to sell them this time of year. Next year I'll grow them myself. So I bought some red mums and a nice bright green pot to plant them in and brought a ceramic hummingbird that's been in the family a long time, and we drove down to the cemetery in Sebastopol. Luna was tired and she cried the whole way there.
Sun was going down on such a fiery, clear autumn day with warm blue skies. We got out of the car and walked toward the Garden of Angels where the children are buried. A family was there at their baby's grave, putting flowers down, 2 little boys running around.
We put Otto's flower pot and hummingbird down on his grave. We spread the petals from his rose bush at our house. We put our hands down on it and talked to him. Luna sat down too, and played with pine needles. We miss you, baby, we love you. I imagine his ashes down there, under the earth, the earth holding them. A place for us to convene, to do this, though I know he is always with me, I can always talk to him. It is beautiful to drive out to the country, through apple orchards and into sweet smells and hills, and be with him and his memory, his meaning.
Another family came to put flowers down for their child. I heard the mama's tender voice as she talked to her baby, soft, high tones, sad. They bent down and cleared his stone, and little boys ran around.
Other families do this too. Other families have big holes in them. We are there together, putting flowers down. Holes filled with love, but love leaves the holes there. They make us interesting, they make us who we are, we grow around them, we are strong, we remember.
And how I love Luna. My love for her makes the whole world seem better. That love, such love,
began in full when they put Otto on my chest for the first time, when I held my warm, soft child for the first time, knowing he would die, but Oh, he was with me then, he was MINE, my sweet, soft darling boy, and those moments will always be strong with me, those NOWS of then. I have never been the same. And when Luna came, that love just carried on with her, it got to live longer in my arms with her, and it grows and grows. For both of them. That is the part we celebrate.So, my sweet boy, let me keep being your mama. And put flowers down for you on special days. Let your dad keep being your papa. It is so important to us. We hold you so close. We love you so much. We are so glad you are our boy.
