I first met Jay in university almost three years ago. We had spent the last two years of our program together, sharing many of the same classes. I have always known her to be upbeat, decisive, and highly motivated to achieve whatever goal she had set her mind on. She responded with such enthusiasm when I approached her to be interviewed, however neither of us realized the direction it would go. I noticed a difference when we approached the topic of death—it was as if she could not find the words to describe the events and emotions to the degree that I had grown accustomed to when talking with her. After the interviews were finished, we both sighed in relief from the weight that had been lifted. Soon after, she was back to her same old cheerful self, but I can only hope she has found some resolution to the grief.
The afternoon sunlight peaked softly through the kitchen blinds as Jay and her mother stood side by side in front of the kitchen counter. They were making tamales from a recipe that had been passed down over generations, from mother to daughter, as it has always been done in her family Both their hands were covered in masa, but that was part of the experience of being Mexican and Zacatecan, a sign of the hard and never-ending work that many women do to feed her family.
“Make sure you knead the dough properly otherwise they won’t taste right,” her mother gently reminded as she looked over to inspect how Jay was doing.
“Like this?” Jay moved the bowl to show her.
“Just like that, mija. Your abuela and tío would be so happy to see you making tamales right now. He used to eat so many he’d be sick for days,” she sighed”
Her mother’s longing sigh was quiet yet so pronounced against her typical temperament. Jay’s grandmother had passed away almost two years ago, her uncle’s passing was more recent, but it was still clear that the wound was just as fresh. Even memories of his funeral were still vivid, enough so to pull her attention away…
When her uncle passed, it took only a few days to prepare for the funeral service. Her family gathered at their church, as they had done for the past few days, along with family friends and distant relatives. Everyone looking up at the pastor standing vigilantly behind the podium and reciting the novenas prayers for that day—the sixth day.
“… We humbly ask you to set them free and bring them to the happiness in heaven, for the greater glory and honour of your name.” said the pastor with solemn dedication.
In return, everyone responded with a simple and somber “Amen.”
Jay shared these emotions with those who attended. The loss of her uncle, especially coming so soon after that of her grandmother, was a lot to handle, but it was because of this that she understood that these feelings were only temporary. These nine days of the novenas prayers were the opportunity for her and her family to mourn properly with family. Despite the pain, everyone knew this was not the end for their beloved uncle, neither was it for anyone who passed away.
Every November, days after Halloween, her family celebrated El Día de los Muertos, a day to remember friends and family who have died and for their spirit to communicate with the living. To her, however, it was not just to remember, but also to celebrate their lives and reciprocate the love they had given her in their lifetime. This led her to a sense of spirituality—in some way, death was not the end, but she could not explain it as it was something that she was still exploring and defining for herself. El Día de los Muertos was one of the few Mexican traditions that they celebrated in Toronto. While she always wanted to explore more of her culture, both Mexican and Zacatecan, it was hard to do so without more of her family present. Even still, her mother had made sure to celebrate what they can with who they can since it has always been frustrating not being able to be while her own family was back in Zacatecas.
She snapped back to the present when she heard the sound of a camera shutter. She spun around to see her father pointing his phone at the two women.
“What are you taking a picture for?” Jay retorted in surprise at the sound.
“It’s for the family group chat. Let me take another one of you two smiling.” He looked back at his phone screen to take another photo.
He must not have said anything before otherwise she would have come to sooner. He had always been stoic and independent, as was expected of his Irish Canadian background, while her mother was more personable and social, but against the odds, they had started a family back in Zacatecas and emigrated to Toronto. Despite their seemingly opposite personalities, there was one thing that the two parents had instilled into Jay—the value of family.
As she stared back at the camera with a hearty smile, her mind led her to drift off…
Unbeknownst to Jay, a year ago, Jay’s grandmother on her father’s side had been sick for a while. Her aunt had been there for some time to help, but her condition had continued to decline to the point where she had reached out to let the family know there was not long left. This had come out of the blue and took everyone by surprise. How could anyone not come forward and hide her illness when it had gotten so severe?
When they visited the hospital, she was nothing like how they remembered her. It was heartbreaking to see someone who had helped raise her become so sickly. They had fortunately received the news early enough for everyone to have their last moments and final goodbyes—early enough for Jay to come to peace with what was to come. It had taken some time as well to understand why her aunt had concealed this all; it was to protect the family from the inevitable grief. Yet, at the same time, had everyone known about this earlier, they could have better prepared for it. There had been many holiday dinners planned that had fallen through with her grandmother, but if they had known she was ill, they would have done what was necessary to make those happen. All these times that could have been spent with her grandmother began to poison her mind with regret, but she knew that there was no use in lamenting on what could have been.
At the church service, Jay was able to connect and mourn with her relatives. Unlike Jay’s mother’s side, this side of the family was not as spiritual—once you died, that was it. No fanfare, no afterlife, nothing. As she studied the faces among the crowd of relatives, she once again saw grief and sadness, but it was not the same as at with her uncle’s funeral. Perhaps it was the lack of belief in spirits that they processed the death differently. With her uncle, they saw her spirit returning as another opportunity to see her; with her grandmother, they focused on the present, consoling and uplifting those who needed it the most to push through the sorrow.
Her father, ever so unimpressionable, was maintaining his composure despite the obvious emotional turmoil he was experiencing. She knew her father and grandmother did not have the strongest of relationships, but it still astonished her to see him not go up to the casket like so many others had done. This was how he was raised, just as so many of Jay’s relatives from his side of the family—he had to be strong; not for himself, but for others. Even with the passing of his own mother, he felt as if he needed to be the shoulder for everyone to lean on. But maybe he did not need to go up and speak to his mother. The saying goes “actions speak louder than words,” and maybe that was true for them.
The phone sounded again as her father took another photo and quickly went to see if it was good enough to send.
“I hope you’re hungry. Jay’s getting really good at making tamales now,” her mother teased to her father as she bumped her shoulder against Jay’s in praise and jest.
“Let me know which ones are hers so I know which ones to avoid,” he taunted before everyone roared into laughter.
Jay loved these simple moments the most. She was proud of the family she had and even more grateful for them. Even with all the hardship that comes from being Mexican, Irish, and Canadian, she had found her place in Toronto. She was still discovering herself, especially in her spirituality and feelings towards her own death, but so many questions still lingered. Would she be laid to rest with her family in Mexico, or here in Toronto, where she calls home? Would her own passing be respected as has been done by her Zacatecan family, or follow the customs of her Irish Canadian family? Either way, she knew who she was and that she had the family who she loved so dearly there to support her, no matter what happens.
Jay’s father loved to hike and decided to take her to El Cerro de la Bufa, a hill close to their home in Zacatecas. They had left early in the morning to account for the five-hour trek it would take to reach the mesa, but neither one would succumb to exhaustion or boredom so easily despite the arduous climb. Dotted along the path were caves that would intrigue and taunt Jay with what could possibly be within, but her father always pulled her away out of fear. The curiosity of what lay inside was enough to quell their boredom. Now and again, the two would come across a prickly pear, which her father would clean and prepare, was a well-deserved treat to regain their strength. Eventually, it had come to the point where even her youth could no longer protect them from the fatigue, but it was then that they had reached their destination.
Sat atop the mesa, there was a sense of magic and tranquility. The city in which their family had spread its roots was laid out in all its glory centered around other mountains. She could even spot everything thing in their little neighbourhood—their home, her cousins’ houses, everything all within view. She could have sat there all day long, looking across the hillside, and still never have looked long enough to be satisfied, but she knew it would have to end eventually, whether she was ready to leave or not. Her father had brought lunch for the two of them to rest and regain their strength and they talked, not of anything serious or important, but rather about everyday things.
Little did she know this brief respite would become one of the happiest moments of her life.