Dia de los Muertos Ofrenda, Gringa Style

 Dia de los Muertos ofrenda in honor of my brothers
John (1/10/1950-10/23/2014) and Brian (4/12/1953-4/11/2014.)

 I started this ofrenda, or alter, a few weeks ago as a way to think about my brother, Brian. My other brother, John, passed away while I was working on it. I can’t believe they are gone. Who am I going to call when we need advice about house repairs?

I imagine that Dia de los Muertos and the ofrendas that are built for them mean many things to many people. I was even warned that it might be dangerous. But you know, I believe that most of the time we get out of this world what we put into it. There was no fear or darkness in the making of this ofrenda. Just memories and love. Otherwise, would the dancing skeleton girls be so happy to attend?

Edit: I’ve been lighting this every day. It sits on a table in front of a white wall. When the furnace comes on, the shadows of the wings look like they are fluttering!

I don’t know what I believe about an afterlife. I know what I would like. I would like us all to be able to meet each other’s best selves.  I imagine my dad would be in his twenties, newly in love with my mom, boxing with the Golden Gloves, fit and strong and learning about different kinds of people, about to have his first son.

I was surprised not to find calaveras, or sugar skulls, in the markets in the Antelope Valley. I could have driven down to L.A., but I decided to make my own of clay.  The proper skull in the background is from our latest trip to Oaxaca.

 

Almonds, brandy, and little silver coins. The peace signs are not traditional, but they are my wish for my brothers, who really did put up with a lot of pain in the last years of their lives.

The little scrolls are poems. John loved The Cremation of Sam McGee and did a worthy recitation when called upon. Brian’s daughter, Sarah, wrote the other poem since his death, and offered it to me for the altar.  The text is below.

In Memory of My Father

by Sarah Weigold
Loosen the laces
widen the shoe’s hole
hold the heel in place
and aim the sole

Tighten the laces
check on the toes,
Ask if he is comfortable
and make the bows

Reach for the cane
provide a helping hand,
hold steady in place
and help him stand.

Get out of his way
clear the clutter from the hall,
open all the doors,
and make sure he doesn’t fall.

Walk with him to the car
open the passenger door wide,
hand him his seat buckle,
and then get in the other side.

With the tying of the shoes,
the adventures would begin,
I miss the morning routine,
and wish I could do it all again.

Brotherly Love

 My brother, John, rocking an O’Doul’s at the Wolf Lake High gathering, June 2013.

I can’t believe I’m doing this again. Writing about another brother gone. It’s almost a week since my big brother, John, passed away, but I’m dating this post the day he died of cardiac arrest after surgery.

“Sal (14) & John (25) Oct-Nov 1975.”

My protector. I didn’t know until a couple of years ago that when Hydra and I first got together, John wrote Hydra a letter explaining that I was someone’s beloved little sister who should be treated with respect.

We were so close for a long time. When he came back from Vietnam I was ten or eleven. He took me to movies and picked me up after basketball games, and talked to me a lot on the drives. He never told me anything scary. I don’t really remember what we talked about, but it was good for both of us.

John helped me develop my taste in movies. He took me to some great films he thought I should see, and to just fun stuff too. Before he went back to Indiana this fall, we saw Live. Die, Repeat  (formerly known as The Edge of Tomorrow) together. Probably the last movie he saw in a theater. We loved it.

Can you hear that laugh?  I can! At the Wolf Lake High School gathering in 2013. So good to connect with old friends.

He loved nature. He had an artistic eye, which showed in his photography, artwork, and his home in Texas. He was difficult sometimes, but aren’t we all?

On our way to karaoke in Pierceton, IN, June 2013.  That was a very good visit. John recited part of The Cremation of Sam McGee.

We talked on the phone at least every week for the past couple of years, if not every day or two. The phone rings around that time of night, and you know what Hydra and I are thinking.

This is who we were in 1987, right before Hydra and I got married. Brian, Joan, Sally, John, Peg and Herb under the maple tree in the front yard.