"In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country."

The quote that serves as the title to this post is from Federico Garcia Lorca, the famous Spanish poet & playwright who was assassinated by agents of Francisco Franco in the first half of the 20th century.  It is a quote I reflect on often, one that in my experience is true, one which seems to have shaped a large aspect of how I view life and death.  Or I could have just as well named this post in honor of an equally appropriate quote, a favorite of my brother, by Antonin Artaud: "Those who live, live off the dead."  (Those who were at my wedding may remember Jamerson fit that very beautifully into his best man speech; also, if we are friends on Facebook, you can check the "Notes" section of my profile to see a textual version of Jamerson's speech [which still makes me cry whenever I read it].)

Both quotes were on my mind these last few days, as Emily and I observed one of the most important holidays in Spain..  Today (technically) ends the celebration of El Dia de los Muertos here in Spain, a very important, sacred holiday that coincides with All Saints Day.  The holiday serves, as I mentioned in the last post, as a formal way for families to gather and mourn their deceased loved ones, paying both emotional grief, but also physical gesture (in the way of the cleaning, maintaining, and adornment of resting places) to their family both old and recent.

I don't have a lot more to add to the reflections I posted Saturday, other than to say I was left with a warm feeling by the touching, solemn observance, which I think, ultimately, is a beautiful way (if not the only, or necessarily, best way) to mourn the dead.  The mass was ultimately very anticlimactic, both difficult to hear (the microphone did not work, so the priest simply spoke in a low voice that hardly reached us in the back) and understand (he spoke mainly in Galego, which I don't understand as well as Spanish).  What I did understand was, to me, a bit trite, and did not speak to me personally (he spoke about how this life is short, this world in small, and that on this day we should remember Christ's death, as he died so that we can be reunited with our loved ones in heaven).

It was a cold, rainy few days, which seemed fitting for the mood.  Here are a few last pictures, taken by Emily, that show some of the turnout at the cemetery and awaiting mass.

The couple facing the camera are the Castros, close family friends of my grandparents.

 Waiting for mass to begin.

 With family

Once again, my grandfather's grave.

And here is a link to a video  of the candle being lit.