My Family and The Day of The Dead

I grew up in a small island in the Caribbean. My grandmother, from my mom side of the family, was first generation of Spaniards  in the island. When I was a little girl, my family used to celebrate the Day of the Dead.

Every November 2nd, my grandmother will make sure that her two sons and her daughter, will meet at the cemetery. Then she will take my brothers and me, to the cemetery, with her. We will help to clean my grandfather’s grave. Sometimes we just needed a broom. Other times we had to paint the tombstone. Everybody had to work. No excuses.

Usually it was very hot at the cemetery. My brothers were little. They will try  to run on the graves, jumping from one grave to another. My grandmother would not allowed it. She will call them and give them a speech. The topic of this speech was “Respect the dead ones.”

There were years that one of my uncles will go to the cemetery and take care of everything before November 2nd. Those years my grandmother will still take my brothers and me to the cemetery and we will have be quiet for a couple of minutes in front of our grandfather’s grave. She will bring flowers and put these flowers on the tombstone. Then she will look at the other graves and tell us where some of her friends were buried. She will tell stories about them and their families. Sometimes these stories were sad, but most of the time these stories had happy endings.

When my grandmother got really old, it was very difficult for her to go to the cemetery on November second. She could hardly walk or stand up. She still will tell my uncles and my mom that they should go and take care of their father’s grave. I know for sure that they went every year. Sometimes I had to go with them.

Time went by, and one of my cousins died in a car accident. Then my grandmother died. One of my uncles used to go to the cemetery almost every month.  I used to work by the cemetery and I used to see him seating down, by my grandfather’s and cousin’s grave.

I do not live anymore in the island. My mother does not live there neither, but I know for sure that my uncle will be at the cemetery this November 2nd. He will be thinking about his mother, father, son and granddaughter.

As for me, the last time I visited the island was ten years ago.  I was there on my honeymoon. Before I went to visit my relatives, I stopped at the cemetery. It was not the Day of the Dead, but I felt I needed to go to the place that my grandmother considered so important. I needed to visit that place she took me so many times when I was growing up.

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