To Honor the Dead, Live with Courage

Today is November 1st along with a host of other things including, but not limited to, the 305th day of the year, Antiguan Independence Day, All Saints Day and last but not least, the Day of the Dead, or dia de los muertos.   


Growing up in Houston, Texas - where I can easily enjoy a Negro Modelo, enchiladas, tres leches cake, and Jarritos soda all without leaving the corner store in my neighborhood - has made Mexican culture a part of my blood. The dia de los muertos is no exception.  The Day of the Dead is a Mexican holiday and is the day where the spirits are said to walk the earth.  It is a highly ritualized affair, and it exists to honor deceased loved ones in a festive way.


Significant days of the year like today, Holy Thursday, birthdays, anniversaries and death dates always make me pause and reflect on my parents and grandparents who are long dead.  


And talk of remembering the dead is not limited only to these special days.  Even in church last Sunday, the worship leaders decided to once again read aloud a list of names of the people who had died in the past year, separating each name by the ringing of a bell.  The name & bell exercise literally makes me want to jump up and run out of the building like the smoke alarm has sounded, but instead I end up talking myself down from the fence so I don't disturb those around me.  I do sit there the whole time wondering to myself when it will be over, as it can never be soon enough.  I always cry, and I always think about those people that aren't with me anymore, and I don't like it because I dislike crying in public.


Death is not always easy for me to confront - at the time it occurred, or even years later.  It can make me very vulnerable feeling and weak, though usually, I am someone who is very upfront about the whole dying thing - I like to call it what it is "dead", not "passed away" or some other sugar-coated version of reality.


But on a day like today, where celebration wafts through the air, bright colors are everywhere, and the focus is on honor, it has me contemplating my good fortune to be alive and kicking today and what I might do with such a gift.  It also gives me a chance to keep the memory of those people alive and well.  I draw strength from vivid recollections and stories from years past.  And it is in my living, in my hope, and in my courage, that honor is brought to these memories and lives.

Often the test of courage is not to die, but to live.

- Vittorio Alfieri