New Month

A new month has arrived. Just waiting for time to end. Today is Dia de los Muertos and it is not an arts festival as many like to believe. It is a time to visit the loved ones in the cemetaries and as I can recall visiting my father's tomb is not about painting my face or acting out a play.

If your father has died like mine did in Inglewood on May 4th, 1980 on my mother's birthday, I just cry. That day has not died for me for it forever lives on and the anger at fate and life gives you a pain of eternity. My eternity.

Since my father died, my maternal grandparents have now given way to the earth, three tombs over from where he is at. Before they died and he died, my mother's brother died who sits next to my father. And 8 years later my father's good friend and uncle, father of my cousin died, so he's right next to him too. So no, we don't paint our face like some costume festival. Death is real.

My cousin, another one has also died who rest on the otherside of my grandparents. He too died young for carelessness.

And just this past August, my father's older sister and younger brother too succumbed to cancer. They died a week apart. My father's mother has now buried four of her children and she is still alive to tell it. I can quite say I mourned for them though, our relationship died in 1980 when their brother died and our reason for linkage died so they were not all that close either. I am not really mourning here in a strange way.

And lastly, my grandfather Gus is my reason to mourn. After my father died, we were bounded by the departure of our intermediary. My father was my father and a son to my grandfather who spent their Saturdays at the horseraces or eating breakfast with us. When my father died, my grandfather-Nino too died because the death was too painful. He would not come to our home though he always wanted us to visit him. I was lucky to have him until age 37 until he asked to die and I had to respect his wish by not mourning for him. His death was beautiful in a way. He made it happen to be reunited with my Nina Kika and his son.

Hence el dia de los muertos is not an art project from school rather a place of great pain. I await my arrival too!