I've decided to create a blog about my personal experiences with loss. This is not a cry for help; I'm not suicidal. This is mostly an outlet for me. If you can find some type of comfort from what I write all the better. Some of what I share will be light, ridiculous, and even embarrassing, others will be more personal and somber.
Today I visited my family at our plot. I went to clear my head and visit my family since I hadn't yet seen them for the holidays. On my way over, I dropped by Trader Joe's and picked up a bundle of tulips for each grave site.
It's at a Catholic cemetery in the middle of an urban city with a large Hispanic population. Upon entering the cemetery I was greeted by a sea of shimmering, decked out Christmas trees, poinsettias, wreaths, and bouquets. I made my way over to where my family is interred. When I found their headstones and saw the bare grass below it kind of made me sad. As a half-Hispanic woman I felt like my family and I had under represented and kind of let my relatives down. Hispanics are known for celebrating their dead. In some ways, I feel that their celebrating helps to fill the loss and keeps us connected to those we love.
Sitting in the grass, listening to an album that used to be my God father's, I realized that having these plots is meant to keep our memory alive. To have physical proof that we were here, we existed and we mattered. I understand much better why my grandma has made it such a big deal to go to the cemetery. I plan to try to go with her as often as I can. Additionally, I am going to make sure that my family will have some decorations and flowers for next year's Christmas season.
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