Everybody knows about Halloween. And a lot of people know about All Saints’ Day (All Hallows’ Day), observed November 1. But next to nobody knows about All Souls’ Day, observed November 2.
Today is All Souls’ Day—a day to remember deceased loved ones, to visit cemeteries, to inspect old photos, to light a candle, and raise a toast.
All Souls’ Day is also a time, especially for Catholics, to offer prayers for loved ones stuck in purgatory—a kind of detox center between heaven and hell, something like New Jersey. (Sorry, Melinda.) The more prayers offered, the quicker the detainee is transferred out of purgatory into heaven.
I don’t believe in purgatory. I don’t think heaven, hell, or purgatory are real places. (No hell beneath us, above us only sky works for me.) But I do believe they are real experiences here and now. I’ve been in all three “places.” I know of others who have too. More than once.
Sometimes life is heavenly. Sweet as honey. Sometimes hellish. Bitter as wormwood. Sometimes hard. Torturous as a crucible.
All Souls’ Day may sound morbid, but it doesn’t have to be. In Mexico, it’s known as The Day of the Dead. It’s a joyous celebration full of singing, dancing, and eating. Departed loved ones are remembered fondly. The living and the dead are reunited. I don’t know how, but they are. I’ve heard that the barrier between the living and the dead thins now and then.
Today I’m starting a new practice for All Souls’ Day. I’m going to focus on one departed friend and remember that person throughout the day.
For no particular reason, I picked Peter.
Peter was a neighbor and friend. He died 10 years ago from pancreatic cancer. He was a molecular biologist, a stay-at-home dad, an advanced math tutor, and a school volunteer. He spoke French fluently.
We biked often with others over long distances. He was a versatile mechanic. He repaired chains, gears, and wheels. He also knew everything about pretty much everything and let us know it. He was temperamentally inclined to take spontaneous detours, which often led to long, steep, tortuous hills.
Peter drove me nuts. But I loved him dearly. And today I remember him fondly.
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