All Saints Day

If you are Catholic, as is my husband, you will know that Saturday, November 1, was All Saints Day. You will also know that November 2 was All Souls Day. Essentially, these two days commemorate those who have departed with the belief that there is a spiritual bond between the dead and those still here on earth.

On Saturday, I attended a friends baby shower, with Catherine in tow. James stayed home with Eric, and when I got home, I fully expected James to be awake, up from his nap. That was not the case. Instead, Eric informed me that James had only fallen asleep a half hour before, after talking to himself and playing in his crib for almost an hour and a half.

He has never done that before. In fact, I can only count on one hand the amount of times he has lain in his crib and talked to himself, but never for an hour and a half.

When he finally woke up, I jokingly asked him if he had been talking to Grandpa Tom. "You know, big guy, blue eyes a lot like mine and yours."

He looked right at me and said, "Yessss..."

I didn't even realize what day it was, did not intentionally ask James, and was not expecting that response. Afterward, James grabbed a ball, stood in our entryway and threw the ball down the hallway. I am sure the ball bounced off of something and rolled back to him, but I was tending to Catherine and didn't hear it hit anything. James did this a couple more times, and although I was too distracted by Catherine to be able to tell, I thought it was odd that he was throwing the ball where he was throwing it, and after retrieving it, would throw it again.

I think it's important for my children to know who my dad was. I talk about him as much as I can, but oftentimes, it's only a brief mention, otherwise I begin to get choked up. I also think it's important that James and Catherine visit my dad's grave with me, so they can understand what it is that is so important about the man who was loved by so many.

However, those plans are always thwarted by James, who usually is not in the mood to visit the cemetary.

My choir is singing a song called I Carry Your Heart, which speaks of exactly that. I often try to give them a personal story to connect them to the text, and usually, it has to do with my dad. So I told them the story of James.

I have a Spanish student who said, "Sarurday was Dia de Los Muertas: The Day of the Dead." I about fainted.

True to some of the best times I have with my students, we got a little off track and my Spanish student asked if James gets freaked out when we go near cemetaries. I told them that when I take James to see my dad's grave, he loses it immediately inside the gate, the stay is usually very short and he cries the whole time. Some of my students were freaked out, but my Spanish student just mentioned that her culture believes that young children can see and talk to the spirits who visit on All Saints Day.

And the more I think about it, the more I believe in it. I believe James was playing with my dad. I believe James was talking to my dad. I believe James can see my dad.

The thought fills me with happiness and extreme sorrow. How much I want my children to know the person he was, and how much I want to just see him again, hug him, have a two-sided conversation. I think of the day I will see him again. I wonder what it will be like. I think of all the things I will say to him.

But for now, it looks like I will have to let James speak for me.