La Ofrenda Inadvertida

Dearest Rachel –

It’s the sort of thing to only think of talking about today, on what would be the Día de Muertos if we were of the sort to commemorate that. Certain concepts only come to mind at certain times of the year, prompted by seasons or holidays, and this is definitely one of those, especially given that it belongs to a culture not my own.

But when I passed through the sunroom on my way to breakfast this morning, my eyes landed on the smaller bookcase, upon which Jan and I placed so many photographs that we dug out of the chaos of the house, and I couldn’t help thinking, “You know, this looks like an ofrenda, doesn’t it?”

Apart from Daniel and I (and granted, Daniel does take pride of place, with those professional shots from when he was… what? Five? Eight? You would be able to remind me, but since you’re no longer here, all I can do is guess), everyone on this table is gone. You, your parents, your mom’s parents… and of course, the dog. I want to say that’s Canny, rather than Crispin, but I never met either of them – she had been long gone by the time we met; even her son, Rufus, was an old boy by that time. Again, without you here to fill me in on the particulars of these photos, most of which were brought home from your folks’ place after their passing, I can only speculate on the circumstances.

But in any event, it does look a bit like one of those family tribute displays, albeit completely unintentionally.

Granted, it doesn’t completely follow what I understand to be the traditional ‘rules’ for a proper ofrenda (although, if every family has their own set of rules and traditions, much like how to decorate a Christmas tree here in the States, can any of this actually count towards violating them?) There are no flowers – although the cone in which those mysterious May Day flowers arrived in is hanging from the corner. There are no candles – to be honest, I’m not entirely sure we have any candles in the house at all at this point. And there are no offerings of food placed on the display, although you would, if you were here to see it, consider that a waste of food to use that way. So I wouldn’t even consider it, even if it is a traditional part of the standard display, out of respect for your own sensibilities.

Besides, it’s not like I meant to create an ofrenda – it just looks like it.

To be honest, I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with the comparison. The word appears to translate from Spanish as ‘offering,’ and what I went to in order to look up information about the Día de Muertos describes the display as an ‘altar.’ As a fan of manga and anime, I’m familiar with cultures that literally worship their ancestors (although the Japanese, secular as they have become over the past couple of generations, seem to do this less and less), and I don’t want to look like I’m doing that. Besides, it’s not as if you’re an ancestor – you were younger than I even in life, and I keep adding years (and, theoretically, wisdom) to my life with every passing day; the only way in which you are superior than I or Daniel is in being the first to make it to heaven.

Indeed, there are plenty of cases where the dearly departed, while worthy of remembrance and respect, are hardly worthy of adulation or veneration. You’ll recall enjoying poring over the Darwin Awards back in the day, where people attain your place by dint of sheer stupidity. Granted, they could definitely serve as bad examples, I suppose – and I want to be clear, I’m not counting you among their number (and I’m sure that Ms. Northcutt, the site’s administrator would agree, yours was a freak accident, not a case of folly on your part) – so they ought to be remembered all the same, but worshipped? Hardly.

Of course, we all have strange ways of giving honor to those that went before us, and upon dispassionate reflection, they might all seem a bit silly. I recall a story of a pair of individuals witnessing a funeral in which the deceased was plied with various foodstuffs, much to the amusement of the one individual, who was not familiar with the custom. He asked his companion (who was part of the cultural heritage) about it, and why present the dead man with food he could not eat.

“You put flowers on your loved ones’ graves, don’t you?” Upon receiving an answer in the affirmative, the man explained, “Well, when your people smell the flowers, that’s when he,” indicating the corpse, “will eat the food.”

Anyway, I hope you’ll understand and approve when I admit we’ve no plans to leave anything on the shelf as an offering. You were hard enough to shop for in life – I’m not about to try to please you now that you’re gone, as if I could. Just figured I ought to let you know what I’m seeing on a day like today.

Hälsohem, honey.