Día de Los Muertos: Mí ofrenda


It has been a while since my father has visited me, yet I feel him as though he is here. He is, differently. I am thinking about one time in particular when my father visited me. I was sitting on the couch watching TV when the front door just to the left of the TV and some feet behind, opened. There was bright light, penetrating. I looked and saw a man walking toward me, though the light kept me from seeing clearly. I began to stand. Then I saw. It was him. Smiling. My father walked over and stood in front of me. I was nearly overwhelmed with so many thoughts and feelings, I felt myself doing a little jump-in-motion dance the way a child might. There seemed so much to say. He just smiled, standing there in a flannel button-down and baseball cap. “Daddy!” I said. “Daddy, tell me how it is. Tell me how it is over there.” The light brightened, his smile broadened, and he remained silent.

One day, Daddy. One day, I, too, will know why you smiled. Keep the light on, but don’t stay up.

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