This summer we finally made it to Mexico to take my dad’s ashes home. Since he died in 2010 we have been trying to all get together to have a memorial and take his ashes to his final resting place. He wanted to be in Mexico, in the small town he spent his summers vacationing. Consequently, we spent our summers there too. His beloved Majalca became our beloved Majalca. We spent weeks with uncles, aunts, friends and cousins. We learned to ride motorcycles, climb rocks, eat beans, laugh together and cry together. It is a wonderful place to grow up.

So this summer was the first time we all piled into our family home in Mexico. This time my three kids were with us. We had a wonderful weekend memorial for my dad, more about that later.  What caught me off guard was that my parents weren’t there. Strange, right, because I know they have been gone since 2010. I know they are gone. I have missed them since they died. What I didn’t expect was the renewed feeling of loss in an old familiar place. We always went to Mexico together. So, of course, it makes sense that it would be strange to go there without them but on some level I expected them to be there, that I would see them.  I kept expecting to go out on the front porch and see my mom having her morning coffee or walk by my father’s room and see him laying in bed reading. Logically I know that is crazy but on some emotional level it made sense. I mourned them again and realized that when someone you love dies all the places you shared together are yours together. The memories you build are yours together. How do you go back to those places without your loved one? Some people may not go back, I understand that, but doesn’t that end up hurting you by keeping you from a place or experience you love? I think so.  Maybe you go, knowing it might be difficult but knowing it is worth it. Lucky for me I was surrounded by my crazy, wonderful extended family who also missed my parents. This helped. Hopefully you have some crazy extended family of your own.