Many years ago in Northern Europe, people celebrated only two seasons: Winter, which started on November 1st; and Summer, which started on May 1st. In many places in the world, both pre-Christian and Christian communities have celebrated the end of October and the beginning of November as a time to remember our beloved dead.
Once while in California, I was invited to a dinner where we brought place-settings and special foods to honor those we had lost. We ate in silence and candle light, communing with those no longer with us. There were tears — and oddly enough laughter — as we recognized the places that those who had gone before still occupied in our lives. We remembered — we reassembled those relationships. It was healing to remember the friends and family that we remember and the ancestors and mentors who helped us become the people we are today.
Continue reading “Missing Places at the Table”