Dia de los Muertos

All Saint's Sunday is my favorite Sunday of the year. It seems a little weird I suppose, that I'd have such an affinity for a day that commemorates the dead. After all, Christianity is about resurrection. But for me, no rebirth is possible without the profound sense of agony that comes with the depth of loss. The Christian liturgical year begins with Advent, a time of preparation and anticipation. But for me, on a more personal level, the church year begins on All Saint's Sunday. This year, my church created a special altar where we could set photos of relatives whom we've lost to the sting of death. My mom had set framed photos of both sets of my grandparents there.



It was moving to see the entire community of saints, this incredible group of people who once lived this earthly life with purpose and now rest from their labors. But what was more moving to me, was when I walked by the pictures after taking communion. I paused at each set of grandparents. When I stood before the photo of my dad's parents on my parents' wedding day, I was entirely overcome with a flood of emotions which I still can't entirely articulate, not even two weeks later.


My dad's mom, Isabelle Mildred Bryant, died only two years after this photo was taken, so I never had the chance to meet her. But I've had the spiritual sense that I've always known her. It doesn't show up in this photo of a photo of her, but she was wearing a triple strand of pearls here. She looked so striking to me. with her stunning outfit. But it's her posture here that speaks to me. She's somehow so grounded, so strong even though she was plagued with arthritis for her entire adult life. Long ago my mom told me that had my grandmother had the chance to know me, she'd have adored me, and that I'd have felt the same way in return. So I've always felt like we were somehow kindred spirits. I've always felt her vicariously alive in me. Long ago, I decided that someday, if I were lucky enough to have a child, his or her name would include Isabelle or Bryant, and I wore my grandmother's triple strand of pearls on my wedding day in memory of her.

And so exists the mystery of faith, the life in the Dia de los Muertos.