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Yolanda: what a beautiful picture you painted for all of us.  It
shocked my memories in a good way. Thank you.  It reminded me that my
abuela Dona Lola, que en paz descance,  was also so serious about the
flowers. And we had to walk such a long way from her house to the
cementary. She did all the work; I guess we were there just to keep her company
and carry the empty buckets back.   We were a small
family so there were just two or three graves.  Two of the graves
were of her sons who died as teenagers.  She sighed a lot while
she washed the tombstones. And we little cousins learned respect; we would
be stopped if we got too noisy or chased each other among the graves and
especially if we walked on the graves. She said very little when she corrected
us; she just looked at us and shook her head. That was enough.
    I'm the head Tia now, so maybe its time to revive
the custom in my immediate family.  Around here  silk
flowers seem to be appropriate.  Again, thanks.

Yolanda Bobby
Perez <windrocklili@...> wrote:

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I think the reason our relatives didn"t speak of the
death of a child is obvious, the pain is overwhelming and in the telling come
the tears. "recordar es volver a vivir"  In researching my grandfather
Jose Anastacio Medina I discovered four of his siblings dying at a very
young age, only he and his sister Margarita survived. Unfortunately they
both lost their parents at a very young age and were sent to live
with their mother's sister in Santa Rosalia de Camargo,
Chihuahua.        And speaking of the
dead.....   

  Now that El dia de los muertos is around
the corner I recall my abuela materna Aurelia Yanez de Saavedra going to
Ciudad Juarez and visiting El Mercado Cuahtemoc to purchase bunches of
cut flowers in orange, yellow, white and brown. She would bring them back and
put them in tinas full of water to keep them from wilting.  I still
remember the vivid colors and the aroma of the crisantemos or "flores de
muertos" as she called them.  Later in the evening we would all
help arrange floral bouquets for the many graves of her loved ones. 
This yearly ritual began very early on Nov 2 and it was a whole day
activity. My abuelo Julio, would bring his huge truck and load all
of the tinas full of flowers, they would also take brooms, rakes,
shovels and hoes to clean up each gravesite.  Not only did they
cleanup the area but sometimes they had to repair or paint the crosses or make
new ones. I know that for many people in Mexico the custom is to setup an
altar with food and drinks, but in my family, after all that hard
work,  WE ate the food.  It was a good feeling to see all the
different families in the area honoring their dead.  My favorite
part was watching my grandma choose each bouquet
and arrange several of them on each grave, she would then get
a can full of water and sprinkle the freshly raked
dirt.  You know, whenever it rains in the desert there is a
very special smell that one never forgets and that smell brings back
memories of Mis Abuelos and a lost tradition.

 

Saludos,  Yolanda Medina Perez

El Paso,
Tx.            
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