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  • Writer's pictureCharlys Trevino

Death, dying and motherhood

"Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them" George Eliot

Having the opportunity to participate in the Dia de Muertos ritual this year in Mexico got me thinking about how we honor our dead and how we are remembered by others when we die.

I didn't really know the life my mother led in Bolivia once she retired and moved there. She had really wanted me and my family to come to Bolivia and visit but I was too busy mothering, partnering and working. That entire scenario has come back to bite me with my own grown children. Karma is really a bitch.

I knew she had reunited after many, many years with girlfriends she made in school back when they were teenagers . During my time in Bolivia this summer, I was introduced to several people who knew my mother and I was able to hear stories about how she was, what she meant to them and the shenanigans she got into with her group of friends.

This was a side of my mother that I didn't know. I would never imagine her dressing up like a Spanish dancer for carnival or doing half the things I heard in the stories that were told. I have to admit, I was super happy to know that the last 10 or so years of her life was spent goofing off with her girlfriends. She must have discovered her playful side again!

So honoring her during Dia de Muertos was a given! I kept thinking she would have loved to have taken a trip like I did this year.

As the years fly by, I can't help but think about my own mortality and can only hope that people will remember stories about how I was, what I meant to them and the shenanigans I got into.

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