Dia de los Muertos

She knew something was wrong as soon as she walked in the door. Sara could hear music and noise as she walked up to the house, but only when she opened the door and stepped inside did she realize what was going on.

If the music hadn’t given it away, the table would have. The bright red patterned table cloth screamed its presence in the otherwise sedate décor and the sugar skulls caught the light from the many taper candles surround them. It was November 2^nd, she remembered belatedly, as she dropped her bag on the floor next to the door and crossed the living room to the dining room.

Dropping into a chair, she ran a hand along the table cloth, feeling its’ rough weave against her fingers and popped a brightly colored piece of candy into her mouth. Bowls of it sat along the table.

“Don’t eat those,” her mother called. “They’re not for you.”

She was mixing something in the kitchen, baking something, Sara thought, as she saw the smudges of flour on her mother’s face. She’d even managed to get some in her hair and it was stark against the dark brown.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again, Ma,” she said, discreetly taking another piece of candy. “What’s the point?”

“The point is, Mija, to honor those who have passed,” her mother told her, yet again, as she swayed to the music streaming from the boombox in the corner. “It’s the Dia de los Muertos, honey.”

“I know, I know. It just seems like such a silly tradition.”

“What’s silly about it?” Her mother swatted her lightly on the head as she passed by. “Your grandmother passed away this year. You don’t want to honor her memory?”

“That’s not fair.” She looked angrily up at her mother. “You know I loved Grandma. You know I miss her.”

Images of Grandmother flashed through her mind. She always so dignified. Sara couldn’t remember a time when her grandmother hadn’t stood tall at the head of the table. And when Sara needed advice, she had always been there with a kind word. Photographs of Grandmother sat on the table. Sara took one in her hand and touched her grandmother’s face through the cold glass. She couldn’t imagine how her beautiful, strong Grandmother had produced the short, loud, disorganized woman who had grown up to be her mother.

“Then I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to do this for her,” she said, spooning batter into a pan.

Sara sat quiet for a minute.

“You don’t really think that the souls of the dead walk the earth on the Day of the Dead, do you?” she asked her mother.

“I don’t know, Mija,” she answered, with more honesty than Sara had hope for. “Maybe they do and maybe they don’t. But if they do, I’m sure they appreciate our efforts. I know what it’s like to come home to an empty house.”

Sara went to bed early that night. She could still hear laughter and the clinking of glasses as she brushed her teeth and pulled on her pajamas. She had told them it was because she had to be in school early tomorrow, but really it was because she couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore. It was garish, she thought. It was gaudy. It wouldn’t bring honor to anybody, much less her beautiful grandmother.

Closing her eyes tight, she tried to sleep, but the din from downstairs banged in her ears and it was a long time before sleep found her.

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was that clearly, it was not morning. The moonlight still poured through the window. She blinked through her sleepiness as she became aware of what had awoken her. The crunching sound seemed to fill her room. Pushing back the covers, she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, still listening to that mysterious crunching noise.

“Well, it’s about time.”

The voice came from across the room… and it was a familiar one. But it couldn’t be, she told herself, as she rubbed her eyes again and focused on the person seated at the chair by her desk.

But it was…

“Grandmother?” she whispered.

“Yes, sweetheart.” The old woman’s white teeth shone in the darkness. “I’m here.”

She popped another chip in her mouth from the bowl that was sitting in her lap.

“By the way, you sleep like a log. It took forever to wake you up.”

“But you’re…. you’re…”

“Dead? Of course I am.”

She sat up and pulled the covers up to her chest.

“How is this possible?” she whispered.

“You’ve forgotten that it’s the Day of the Dead, haven’t you?” Grandmother shook her head. “Your mother certainly didn’t. I’m so glad she left me all of those snacks and sweets. It’s a long trip you know.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess Mom was right for once.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve come to talk to you about,” her grandmother told her, waving a chip for emphasis.

“What? Chips?”

“No.” She could feel her Grandmother’s dark eyes bore into her, even in the darkness. “About your mother. And you know it.”

“What about my mother? She’s fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“She’s fine, but you’re not. You need to start respecting her, Mija.”

Sara’s face scrunched up.

“I respect her plenty.”

“No, you don’t.” Another chip flew into the old woman’s mouth. “She is your mother, Mija. She does everything for you. She deserves respect.”

“She’s just so… different.”

This elicited a laugh and Sara got another glimpse of those white teeth, like tiny pearls.

“She’s not as different as you think,” she said. “She’s not as different from me as you think and certainly not as much as she thinks.”

Sara scoffed, with a quiet humph.

“She loves you. And you’re not so different from her. You love her too, sweetheart,” her Grandmother told her. “You just need to remember it more often.”

“So you came here, all the way from the Great Beyond, just to tell me to be nicer to my mother?”

“Something like that.”

Her grandmother set aside the bowl of chips and rose from her seat by the door. Step by step, she came towards the bed and that familiar old face became clearer in the moonlight.

“I also came to tell you that I love you,” she said. “And that I miss you and your mother.”

“I miss you too, Grandmother.”

Tears sprang from Sara’s eyes, rolling slowly down her cheeks.

“I love you so much,” she said, looking up into her grandmother’s face for the last time.

The old woman wiped away her granddaughter’s tears for the last time, tucking a strand of hair back behind her granddaughter’s ear and touching her cheek.

“I have to go now,” she said solemnly and Sara could see the tears running down her Grandmother’s cheek. “It’s almost midnight and it’s a long journey.”

Sara wanted to say goodbye and the word was on her lips, but she blinked and found herself all alone in the darkness of her bedroom. She stared into the darkness for a long time, hearing her grandmother’s voice echo in her head. Soon, however, the darkness turned grey and as her eyes slid shut there was a smile on her face.