Today I am going to do something I have not done before. Since today is November 1, I have decided I am going to hold my own, small, very Anglo version of Día de los Muertos. Dia de los Muertos, or “Day of the Dead,” according to the History Channel website, “… is a Mexican holiday where families welcome back the souls of their deceased relatives for a brief reunion that includes food, drink, and celebration.”

Find out more about the Day of the Dead here at their website.

Yes, I have seen the Disney movie Coco. So I am automatically an authority on Dia de los Muertoscelebrations. I will probably forgo building an oferenda, or putting on skull makeup, or eating any small candy skulls. Instead, I will stretch the celebration out for several days and have a friendly, relaxed chat with a different deceased relative on each one of those days. Not sure if I need a Ouija board or candles to summon them or just now this is supposed to work. But why not give it a shot anyway?

I mean, who knows what they each might have to share with me? 

Let’s start with my dad. He is the relative that has died the most recently (January 2017) and so is the least experienced at this whole “being dead” thing. And as my siblings know well, he is probably also the family member who had the biggest influence on my life and with whom I had the most friction-filled relationship.

Let the summoning BEGIN! [Wait in silence for a few moments with lights lowered, eyes closed, candles burning, and a soft rock radio station playing in the background for ambience. Also pouring water over a block of dry ice to give the room that layer of low, swirling fog.]

ME:     So, dad. Are you there?

DAD:    I’m right here, Russ. 

ME:     WOW! OK. I’ll take your word for it. I can’t really see you, but I can hear you and can sure feel your presence. You know, this is actually kind of spooky.

DAD:    (Slight chuckle) Well, yes. I suppose it would be. You probably don’t converse with the dead very often, do you?

ME:     No. You’ve got that right. I sure don’t. 

DAD:    Well, let’s not make a big thing of it. Let’s just try to relax and have a conversation.

ME:      You mean like we very often didn’t do while you were alive? 

DAD:    Ouch! That stung a little.

ME:     Yeah. Sorry. I guess that shows what I’ve been carrying around with me since our last conversation. 

[I continue…] You know, right after you died, as I was preparing to give some remarks at your funeral, I found myself thinking more about the things I regretted about our relationship than the things I cherished. I am really embarrassed to say that because it is one of the things I used to warn people about when I was a pastor. 

Back then, whenever I sat in my office planning a funeral for a parent or some other close family member, I always used to say to folks, “Now be sure to use this time to fill out the WHOLE picture of that person’s life. Don’t let yourself dwell on the most difficult or painful parts.”

And look; here I am… ignoring my own good, solid pastoral advice.

DAD:    Well, don’t be too hard on yourself. That whole “do as I say, not as I do” thing is a very real occupational hazard for pastors. 

[Dad continued] But let’s dig into that whole subject a little more, shall we? I mean that whole thing about you and I not being able to just relax and have a conversation. I’m not sure if you know it or not, but this whole Dia de los Muertos thing operates on a pretty strict timetable. I now only have about another 1.5 hours I can spend here with you. 

ME:     Yikes! OK. You’re right. I was not aware of that whole schedule thing. So, cool. Let’s dive on in…

And then, for the next hour and a half, my dad and I talked. We laughed a little. We each cried a little. We opened our hearts in ways that we never had while he lived here on earth. He helped me see him as a complex, nuanced, three-dimensional person instead of the binary “villain or playmate” character of my earliest memories. This in spite of the fact that he was, you know, 100 percent intangible spirit. 

And at the end of our time together, I came away enriched. Transformed. Humbled. Grateful. Convicted and committed to passing his wisdom on to my own children.

Feliz dia de los Muertos, amigos. 

Abundant blessings;