Remembering

Iwrite this on November 2, All Souls Day. Many cultures have different traditions that surround this very day, and people choose to spend it in many different ways. Whether you went to the cemetery to visit the graves of your dearly departed, gave out or collected candy during Trick or Treat, or simply chose to get away, it is one of those days where no matter how we choose to celebrate, there is always a common thought uniting us all – in this case, remembering our beloved departed ones.

You see, this year, I found myself away from my usual long Halloween weekend tradition I have known for years since I moved back home from the States, yet, I still found myself thinking about dear family members who have sadly gone ahead. And while we never really stop thinking about them in our everyday lives, today is a day where we perhaps think about them more, given the occasion. When I was much younger, this very day was spent with them and today, I am grateful to have those colorful and precious memories still so vivid to look back at to share with and tell my future children about.

As the leaves turn into beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows on the other side of the world, the Halloween weekend since I moved back home was always the mark of transition to me – it means that the Christmas holiday is truly drawing near. It is much like Christmas, really. Sometimes, the fanfare and the fancy – the spooky, but cute Halloween decorations and parties we get carried away with – takes over the true meaning of what it is really meant to be. And though tradition may not quite be as strong on Halloween, All Saints and All Souls Day, no matter where we find ourselves, we must take a moment to pause, say a little prayer, and fondly remember those who may gave gone ahead, but were truly a big and essential part of our lives.

I find myself typing this very piece while staring out the window onto a busy street. Yet, amidst all the action, I have found a quiet corner to remember and reminisce. When I think back to my yesteryears and my happy childhood, I think mostly about the people who colored it with so much of their love and selflessness. And though a lot of them have passed, and I can only wish that they are still around, I know that they look down on me from heaven every day. They make their presence known through the smallest of signs, or quite simply, by making things serendipitously fall into place without my even trying, and by letting be. And in the last few days, just that has happened. I am grateful, I look up,

I reminisce, and I remember. I remember how they loved me, and in turn, taught me how to love. That very special love which, though they may have gone ahead, I still feel and know on this very day.

IT’S THE SMALL THINGS ALEX M. EDUQUE