Celebrate Those That Have Passed...With a Picnic

 If you have read my blog in the past you may have seen this poem I wrote for one of Mama Kat's Workshop days.

When the fall days ripen into an orange haze,
When the shop windows fill with leaves and candles and webs
I think back to a time where we still laugh and wish
For full pillowcases

When the streets hush early,
When the first tiny children step out as something other than themselves
I tie the ribbon in a foolish way ‘round my head to hide
My face and maybe tears

When the lights bob down the way,
When the laughter and joy fills the streets
I’ll ponder the delicious fragility of this travesty of the day
That celebrates the thin veil between this world and the next.

When the sun rises tomorrow,
When the stone warms to my touch and the grass is scented
I’ll take my cakes to your resting place
And share them with you.

This is a poem that is a bit of an ode to the last day of October and the first two of November.   I am talking of course of Halloween, All Souls Day and The Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos).  Over the years as I have pondered what my spiritual beliefs were there is one spiritual tradition that comforts me and makes me smile. Here is a line by line explanation of the poem.

The Day of the Dead is celebrated in Mexico on the 2nd of November.  On the 1st they also celebrate this but is is specifically for children and infants that have died.  I celebrate it on the 2nd mostly due to my Dad.  My Dad loved Latin American culture and I am sure that if he had lived longer he would have made many more trips to his beloved Puerto Rico, Costa Rica and Mexico.

My Dad died on October 31st at around 4am.  The traditional aspects of Halloween were forever changed for me after that day.  I could no longer be bothered with dressing up or worrying about Halloween parties or anything like that.  I was and still am heartbroken that he left us at such a young age.  After a few years of faithfully going to the cemetery on the 31st.  I found myself unable to get there one year.  The guilt was terrible.  I managed  to get there on the 2nd though and on my way, I realized that is was the Day of the Dead.

I knew vaguely what the holiday and it's traditions were.  Having no time to make sweet cake in the shape of death's heads, I stopped at Wawa.  I picked up my Dad's favorite hoagie, Italian, a Coke and Reece's PB cups.  All things he liked.  I went to the cemetery, laid out my yoga mat and had lunch with my Dad at his resting place.  I didn't have to talk but could sit, reflect and laugh and even cry.

Instead of going on the 31st, I go now on the 2nd to celebrate my Dad.  I might still cry at times but I want the planned time I spend with my Dad to be more of happy memories both mine and his.

If you have never looked into the culture of this celebration, I highly recommend it.  We all have loved ones we have lost and at times there almost seems like there is no way to cope.  For some reason, this made sense to me and I cherish it as something not only I do in memory of my Dad but in memory of other loved ones that have passed on.

In Dreams

I had killer migraine this morning. Usually they go away after I medicate but not today. I don't usually dream when I try to sleep away the pain but today I had a very vivid dream, one that squeezed my heart almost dry of tears. I dreamed of my Dad.

It was daytime, the sky was blue and I was on a ladder of some sort. I saw my Dad walking towards me talking as if he had not been dead for seven years. He was wearing a light green shirt, shorts and his glasses. He was directing me where to go to buy a computer. All I wanted to do was hug him and hold him close. I had to say 'Dad' a could times to get him to stop talking. Then I looked at him and said, "Can I please have a hug?" He looked a little odd as if the question surprised him. It was as if he didn't really get that he had been gone for so long. He opened his arms and hugged me. I was holding on to tight and just started bawling uncontrollably, no speaking. I remember the tears being hot and getting on his shirt. Somewhere in the background someone said, "She is grieving." I just wanted to hold on. He was warm, like he'd been in the sun. I remember his smell and just being safe, no worries for a few moments. When I woke up, I was on my side, my arms were wrapped around me and they were almost numb from I guess squeezing so hard. I was surprised that my eyes were dry because of the crying. I just wanted to go back to sleep and go back. Even now as I write this, I am crying.

I forget the grief sometimes and the anger at not having him in my life. It's days like this that hit me like a ton of bricks. I am never sure after wards if I feel better or worse.

Crackberry Friday: Things to Do...

Due to technical issues I was not able to post this until today.



1. Go to work...ok call in sick to work because of migraine because dog threw up on the bed in the middle of the night.


2. Make sure I have enough Halloween candy.


3. Get cool 'fire' cauldron out for decoration.


4. Have lunch with Dad.



I hope I didn't freak you out or anything. Today is the anniversary of my Dad's death. I wrote a poem about it for Writer's Workshop a couple weeks ago. In that poem I mentioned the idea of celebrating "Dia de Los Muertos" because my Dad was a fan of Latin Culture. Seeing as this anniversary occurs the day before Dia de Los Muertos I celebrated is today with him.

It was a gorgeous day. The cemetary looks like a golf course, rolling hills beautiful trees and the only thing you can see that would cue you into the actual use of the land is the vases that are on most in ground plaques. I got a Wawa hoagie, bottle of water and Reeces Peanut Butter Cups (which he liked very much). I also brought flowers. (You'll notice in the pic, there is a Phillies flag. I am not sure who put it there but it was with a rose as well. I think it must have been my brother becuase he was born about 2 months after the last time the Phillies won the World Series.) So I sat on my yoga mat next to his resting place and enjoyed the silence, the blue sky, sounds of the birds and the peace I felt from knowing that beautiful place was where he rested.

Happy Fathers Day, Dad!

Today we celebrate our Dads by showing them that we care. We may do it by bbq-ing, giving them presents or just letting them relax. Today I did something I know my Dad could relate to an appreciate. I edged grass.

My Dad was an engineer, methodical, precise; a perfectionist. He took care of our 2&1/2 acres of property like it was his second full time job. The front lawn always looked perfect, like a pool of green that you'd want to roll around in and fall asleep. He had a push mower and a tractor. He NEVER drove the tractor on the front lawn because he said it was too heavy. The flower beds were perfectly lined up and the stone wall he built around one of the huge trees in the front lawn looks like a professional landscaper painstaking laid each field stone to this day.

So today, when I went to the cemetery to leave some flowers and have a little chat, I noticed that the around the edge of the plaque that marks his spot, the grass was starting to grow over a little. I thought that the cemetery maintenance was supposed to keep up with that. Anyway, I thought to myself, "This would have bugged Dad. I wonder if I have scissors in the car still." I went and check the glove compartment and sure enough I did. So I went to work and edged the plaque by hand.

When I was growing up, people always thought that I was more like my Mom. As I went through my twenties and now halfway into my thirties, I think I turned out more like my Dad; always striving for perfection, even when not warranted or needed. Today, I was my father's daughter, edging the grave marker, making sure that it was out lined tastefully and crisply. Clipping a blade here and there, blowing off all the stray clippings. I know that Dad would have gotten what I did and appreciated it. That made celebrating Father's Day a happy occasion for me instead of the sad one it could have been.

The Check

I have this check that I can't throw away. It is for $50 and it was written in 2002. It's from my Dad. I remember him giving it to me for absolutely no reason. He said, "Here this is for you and P." It's in his writing, his all caps but the letters that are supposed to be lowercase are just caps by half the size. It has his messy signature that I always thought was so cool as a child. It was never cashed because at some point we lost it. (I know, morons. Trust me, it wasn't that we didn't need it.) From the stamp on the check is looks like we found it and P tried to deposit it almost a year later. Unfortunately, since it was to both of us and only his signature was on it, they wouldn't let us. The date on the stamp is October 21, 2003. My Dad passed away on October 31st, 2003.

This check has bounced around the apartment we were in at the time and the home we are in now. I found it most recently in a drawer I was re-organizing. I keep stashing it places because I can not bring myself to throw it away and let me tell you, a pack rat I am not. Now I need to find a new place. Right now it is sitting in front of me and for some reason the writing just gets to me.

He was a Chemical Engineer, a really good one. Later on when saving the planet became more and more important, he was called an Environmental Engineer. He was a numbers and logic guy. He needed to write it all down and when I mean all I mean ALL. He designed waste water treatment plants and cleaned up old army munitions sites and did it right. When a certain government department refused to pay the company he worked for my Dad had such incredibly intricate, copious notes that the government looked like idiots trying to prove that the work they asked for wasn't done. He liked to take notes on graph paper, as I do now. I am not sure if it spoke to the order he liked or it was just easier because there was lots of it around. I just always remember looking at his writing and thinking how cool and it was, in all caps, kinda bucking the system I was used to in my all girls private Catholic school (hell).
I remember the letters he wrote us from Egypt when he was there for 6 weeks on a project. They were always like 6 pages long, describing everything he saw in such detail so that we could see it at home. He did the same when he was in Costa Rica and the UAE. You can tell, he traveled a lot. The writing was one of those things I could always count on, whether it was a note where he was staying or a long letter from and exotic place. I think that's why I don't want to let the check go or more to the point, the writing. Right now, he is somewhere else, it may be exotic, it may be wonderful but I know I won't be getting a letter from there from him.

Happy Birthday, Dad, wherever you are.