El Día de los Inocentes (Day of the Innocents)

This week I wrote an article about Día de los Muertos, the Mexican Day of the Dead, and it got my grandma and me talking about the topic. It turns out the holiday is two days long -- November 1 is a memorial for children who have died, and November 2 is for people 8 years and older who died. In the Catholic Church, children younger than 8 are considered sinless (innocents).

The first day was always an emotional one for my great-grandma, Concepción "Conchita" Velasquez. While she had three children -- Ambrosio, Raquel and my grandma Rosario -- the pain lingered for the baby who would have been her second, Jorge, and the one who would have been her last, Carmen.

It's Carmen that my grandma remembers most, because she was 12 when Carmen was to be born. The labor lasted three days -- labor made long by the narrow hips that run in the family. When the baby finally came, Conchita held Carmen in her arms for a few moments. She was blue and cold.

My grandma remembers the little white casket delivered to her house that week.

Conchita never recovered from the day nine months of hope were dashed. She couldn't bear the questions of the other women in town, so she bought a doll and wrapped it in a blanket and carried it with her on her errands.

Most of the time, people believed it. The more curious ones would realize Carmen was made of porcelain, and realize at the same time that Conchita was a little loca. She carried the doll around for six months -- until nobody fell for it anymore and the questions went away.

Día de los Inocentes was an important time for Conchita to grieve. She baked special bread and left fruit and candles on an altar at home. At night, Carmen's spirit was supposed to return and eat the food, a little like leaving cookies for Santa, my grandma said.

In the morning, the full loaves of bread were still there, every year, and she kept her tradition until she died young 10 years later.

In the U.S., grief gets a funeral, and that's about it. In Mexico, grief gets a national holiday. There's so much good in the Mexican inclination to fully experience and validate grief. There's also a dark side if people like my great-grandma never move to a state of acceptance and throw all their energy (and sanity) toward a deceased relative.

In the end, the hope we can take on this Día de los Muertos is knowing the grave has been conquered, once and for all..