Was that Failure, or just Change?
by ggPuppetLady
For weeks, my diary had been marked ‘Nov 10- Day of the Dead’. Capital letters, and in pen, not pencil. I told friends about it; tried to cajole my teenage son into going; turned down other invites for that day; I was committed. In a previous post here, I’d written about how important I believe it is to remember and celebrate our ancestors, which is a significant national day in many parts of the world.
So I drove to my local park at the appointed hour, and was greeted by the fresh smell of incense, and the bubble of a hot urn for free herbal teas. Various brightly dressed people were putting finishing touches to the information display, and there was a sense of reverence, provided by the experienced organisers:
I wandered, preparing myself to decorate a cloth flag, or to peg up an image or some words that would convey an essence of Dad. Other visitors were propping photos of their lost loved one among the exposed roots of the fig tree, and I leaned closer in to see their faces:
And then a voice inside me said ‘No, I’m not doing this today. I want to go home.’
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and headed towards the pottery table, where I could mould a raw symbol of my love.
The voice got louder: ‘I am so not into this right now. And I’m SO not fucking playing with clay!”
Another deep breath. An attempt at self-negotiation: how about if I take a few steps back, snap some photos for my blog, and just relieve the pressure for a moment?
Good idea Gabrielle; no protest from within.
A quiet circling of the site, shooting from different angles, and then a soft advance toward the main tree branch again…
…‘If you take one more step, or stay one more minute, I am going to have the biggest tantrum you’ve ever seen, including crying hysterically while flailing my arms and shoving off well-meaning mourners. I don’t want to share, and I don’t want to care. Get me outta here now!’
O………K…………. Looks like we’re leaving then.
I tried not to skip toward the car. But it was hard not to.
I tried not to drive away with a screeching of hot tyres. But it was hard not to.
It was impossible not to smile with relief.
So did I fail? Did I disrespect Dad by not staying? Was I cowardly?
I realized I just wasn’t ready. Intellectually, I love the idea, and want to make it a national holiday, but emotionally, I couldn’t cut it. Not that day anyway.
So I came home early, to my son’s surprise, and wasn’t in floods of tears, also to his surprise. We played cards, laughing and teasing, then cooked a delicious roast dinner together. Dad would have loved that, and I could almost feel him smiling as we two giggled and cooked.
Every day can be Day of the Dead: using the furniture we inherited from loved ones, or passing their photo in its special frame on the wall. A laugh or an attitude can be handed down across generations, while of course physical appearance is a direct link to our past. I can choose every day to acknowledge Dad, and to give him more attention if I feel like it, such as on his birthday. He would love me to listen to myself, and to not go through with something ‘because I’m supposed to, or because it’s what others expect.’
He would be just fine about me driving away from the park, and would have assured me I wasn’t ‘failing’.
Thanks Dad x
Good on ya Gab!! R x
No not failure. Honouring oneself is never that. You’ve got to do what is intuitively right. Thanks GG. Good on you. It was Dad’s birthday on Saturday and we’re heading for the first Xmas without him. We all seem to be doing fine.
xx
Thanks Kirsty- sometimes it’s tempting to be a bit harsh on oneself, but as I get older, I’m definitely getting wiser, & a bit softer in some ways- it felt good to go home & just be ‘soft’.
I’m glad you’re doing ok- first time for all anniversaries like birthdays/Xmas is definitely the worst, in my experience x
Great post, firstly for making me aware that there even is a day of the dead! (I think I like the idea), but more importantly for capturing in your final few paragraphs exactly where I am also at in terms of my fathers death. We all deal with death of loved ones differently, but for me, my father lives on in me and I see it, witness it and feel it at the most spontaneous / unlikely times. I do think of him on his birthday and at Christmas etc but the most profound stuff comes through normally during routine daily business. It is comforting and it makes me proud. Thanks for this post.
Thankyou for commenting, especially in light of your recent post. I am trying to model for my young teenage son a more healthy way of dealing with death and grief than locking it away, and I think a Day of the Dead is indeed a wonderfully honest and intimate way of acknowledging our loved ones who have passed. Maybe next year hey? 🙂 Thanks for reading
And no, definitely not failure!
I understand exactly what you mean when you ask, ‘is it failure?’ And it reminds me of how much we question our actions, especially those personal actions which cause no harm to others. It’s my present opinion that any choice we make in life which causes no harm to others, is a perfectly legitimate choice to make. That we worry so much about these choices, especially after they are made, says more about our cultural conditioning than it does about our nature. I say your choice to leave has zero to do with failure and much to do with simply allowing yourself to act in a way that meets your needs. Everything else is putty.
Nicely written, gg. As always…
Thanks for your understanding S. You make a profoundly good point. And I see you embodying that philosophy more and more; no one could describe you as behaving like ‘social putty’! xx
Hey Gabrielle
That piece was very beautifully written. You express yourself very well. I kind of liked the idea of you wailing and shoving away would be caring people. Perhaps you should have run from the site yelling “NOOO, Oh Noooo” and you definitely should have burned some rubber upon your exit!
You respect and validate your Dad every time you think of him with love in your heart; every time you post on here; each time you share; each time you remember; every time you walk passed that photo and smile to yourself and everyday you realise that the pain has lessened a little bit more. You don’t need a Day of the Dead, they walk among us everyday so long as we remember and keep them in our hearts.
xxx
That’s beautiful validation of both me & Dad, thankyou for commenting Mark 🙂 x