Climbing Trees

    Today in Mexico, folks celebrate the Day of the Dead.  I don’t know what this holiday feels like for those who don’t have any Dead.  For me, it feels like old home week.  I like the tradition of setting out pictures and decorating with flowers.  Some people cook special foods.  For the past couple of evenings, I have burned candles in honor of my family members who have passed on.  It’s nice to once again have something to do for them.  It’s been such a long time since I have seen them.  I have been telling my daughter happy stories of times together with them and describing traits that she shares with each of them.
    There were six in my family of origin.  Growing up, that number felt tangible – two of each plus Mom and Dad.  When we were all together we felt full and robust, and when there started to be spouses, our gatherings felt like parties.  We loved to get together, and we were enough.  (We always called boyfriends and girlfriends "spouses" even before they actually were.)  I remember after they first passed feeling acutely aware of our much reduced number.  We who remained were incomplete and not nearly enough.  Over the years we have added actual spouses, extended family, and GRANDKIDS!  It’s been a while now, and we feel full again – different, but mostly enough.  Somehow, this year during this time of remembering, I have had moments where I feel full in the old way.  Hard to put into words, but precious to live through.  It feels like a visit, not just from my Dear Ones, but from a time that has passed.  Somehow, I get to be me now but also me then, before it ever occurred to me that it all could change.  For a moment here and there, I feel it, and the feeling tastes sweet.  Rather than being a only memory, the experience is somehow fresh and lovely – for a moment.
    So for the remaining day or so, I will continue to climb our family tree – feeling like one of six for the first time in fifteen years and enjoying the view.  My Dad used to feed ice cream sandwiches to our fat happy dog.  He (both of them) loved it.  That dog outlived my Dad.
    Blessed be.