… and the Day Of My Dad.

Today would have been my Dad’s 90th birthday.

You notice I said “would have been”. He died just short of his 89th birthday and never made it to today.

There is a holiday in Mexico and other places today … called Día de Muertos. The Day of the Dead.

Growing up I remember my Catholic relatives being interested in the fact that he was born on All Souls Day. Three holidays in order.

All Hallows Eve
All Saints Day
All Souls Day

According to the Catholic Church “On All Souls Day, we not only remember the dead, but we apply our efforts, through prayer, almsgiving, and the Mass, to their release from Purgatory”

Well. Dad converted to being a Lutheran when he married my Mom.

I’m thinking Grandma started praying for his immortal soul and all things Purgatory on that day.

But frankly I always thought Día de la Muerte or Dia de los Muertes sounded a lot more glamorous.

According to Wikipedia:

The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember friends and family members who have died, and help support their spiritual journey.

According to tradition, “Assured that the dead would be insulted by mourning or sadness, Dia de los Muertos celebrates the lives of the deceased with food, drink, parties, and activities the dead enjoyed in life.”

Dancing? Joy? Mustard Meatballs? (Dad’s favorite)

Last year when this day rolled around we were still wallowing in the throes of grief and getting my Mom re-situated in her new apartment in the Personal Care wing of their retirement community.

This year she is also gone.

At the time of her death, a worker at the facility said she pictured them both dancing in Heaven. She did not know that my parents actually did meet at a dancing class.

If ever there was a reason for a God in Heaven … and a Heaven for that matter … it would be for my parents to be together … dancing … for all eternity.

I like that image.

Now where is that recipe for Mustard Meatballs?