Robert and I had a quiet, meaningful couple of hours the other evening setting up our annual Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) ofrenda (altar), remembering our parents and other loved ones who have passed on before us.
The time was especially dear for me this year because I thought to pull out some old files that, along with other paraphernalia, stayed for decades in my parents’ safety deposit box before they died (my mother in 2016 and my father in 2020).
In one file was the funeral information about a brother, Jimmie, who was born in 1946 and only lived for five weeks.
My mother dried and kept some flowers from his little grave.
These old flowers are now 78 years ago—three quarters of a century!
I love the Day of the Dead season. “Nov. 1 is known as Día de los Angelitos, which honors the souls of deceased children, and Nov. 2 is Día de los Muertos.” usatoday.com
So today HR and I remembered little Jimmie and his brief life.
And that’s my Saturday Evening Post.
NealEnJoy 