Day of the Dead

This past month at Church has been about Death. I've never been somewhere where death is spoken to so directly and beautifully. Some days I can believe that my father is in each whisper in the wind, the rain that flows down, and each flower and piece of nature surrounding me. I felt it today. And yet there is such a deep emptiness, a deep sense of trauma, of unfairness that I can't shake. It builds a wall between myself and the world. I can't describe how deeply alone I feel most days, how deeply I wish I could dig a hole and cry. And yet during the day of the dead ceremony no tears flowed. I can feel that there is so much I want to express. I wish I could say that it is okay that it's taking me so long to grieve. But I feel as though I am letting my father down. I can feel the anger brew, I feel stuck in three years ago. The moment you receive a call like that there is no erasing it. It replays in my head over and over again. My brother crying on the phone in a way that no one can understand. My mother asking what she should do with the body. Then asking me to decide if I wanted to see him. God, I still don't know if I made the right decision. Maybe it would have brought it home. There were so many decisions that I had no capacity to make. And now all I want is some peace in my heart. I want to speak to him again. I would give almost anything to talk to my father again. I miss him terribly. I miss him in my bones. And I feel so conflicted inside. Between whether I should or shouldn't. It eats at my bones. Maybe we did have an unhealthy relationship, maybe maybe maybe. I don't know. The intensity of what I feel cannot be described. I look at all I've been through in the last three years and I want to scream at the unfairness. The unfairness to my family. The unfairness of life. And yet I see beauty, it filters in. I feel it. I witness it. But the time now feels so internal. I don't really want to be touched. I don't want to be held. The time has passed and now I witness the anger that runs through my heart. Wishing so deeply to be seen and heard in the real way. I don't want to be pitied. I don't want sympathy. I want you to see me as human, a wounded being that truly just wants to be loved for where I am. To honor my soul's journey. And I realize not everyone is able to do this. Many people do not have the capacity to step outside of themselves.

And I just pray that my mother will heal. That we will all heal from the inside out. And learn how to find the beauty in the world again.