August — Ancestors’ Day
“Hurry up, granddaughter, we wouldn’t want our guests to find us unprepared,” Aifa’s grandmother commented, more to assuage her own tension than anything else. Everything had been prepared, cleaned, shined to a blinding polish, planned to the last detail. “Today is a big day, you know, the time when the door between life and death is left ajar, so we can rejoice in our departed loved ones’ presence once again.”
“How would I know if they are here, doyenne?” Aifa asked, a little confused.
“Oh, you will know, child. When they arrive, without a doubt, you will know. Where are the sweets?” she asked, worried again, only to notice that the table had been properly set and everything was already on it.
Dining with the dead might have been considered unusual in any other city, but in Cré it was an honored tradition. Life and death mattered no more on this day, as families got reunited with their loved ones, known and unknown, from recent history all the way back in time to the very foundation of the city. The spirits of the dead presided, benevolently, over their beloved offspring, pleased to see them thrive, while the living, with reverence and gratitude for the great gift the latter had given them, by bringing them into being, spared no effort and no emotional display to express their joy. The whole city was filled with music, and dancing, and laughter, in this gigantic celebration which honored the return of the departed. In every hearth of every house, a little fire lit the way for the spirits to find their way home, if only for a while.
“Why can’t they stay?” Aifa asked.
“What makes you think here is better? The things we don’t know, granddaughter, about what lies beyond, make us cling to what we think we know, so that we are not afraid. While we are in this life, we abide by its rules. We don’t know the rules of the life after death,” she said, polishing the silverware for the third time in the last half hour, even though there wasn’t even the memory of a spot left on it.
“I already polished it,” Aifa pointed out, somewhat disconcerted by the fact that her grandmother didn’t seem to trust her with this task, which had been in her care since she had entered her tweens.
“If you think my mother would stand for spots on silverware,” grandmother mumbled under her breath, and then realized that the spoon was polished to a shine and put it down. When she lifted her eyes, she encountered Aifa’s bewildered gaze and clarified. “What? I wasn’t born old.”
“Do you think of your mother often, doyenne?”
“I don’t have to, child. I know her spirit is always close by, guiding me and watching over me, just like I will do for you, when my time comes to go to the other side.”
Aifa looked out through the windows, which had been left wide open for the spirits to come in, and saw the lights marking their path, coming down from the mountain and going to the sea, glowing softly into the evening, while the celebrations went on. Thousands of people moved up and down the streets in a gentle, fluid dance, and their glossy garments reflected the lights of countless lanterns and tiny pit fires, making their collective motions look almost like rivers of candle lights flowing through the city. For a moment, Aifa stopped seeing anything other than this gentle glow, as if everybody had cast their earthly shell to show their naked spirit to the world. The movement of the spirit drew the breeze down from the mountains towards the sea, and the breeze brought with it exquisite fragrance and the moist scent of forest air, which settled in a placid mist and pooled in the valleys, swerving like a ghostly dragon around the fire lanterns that stood in its path.
The bones of the city, stripped bare of their daylight artifice, now came plainly into sight; every street, every stairway, every bridge, every alley, connected in a masterful array that left no place uncovered, exposing logical flows in ways Aifa had never noticed before.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” grandmother asked. “How beautiful things are, when you are ready to see them for the first time!”
A gentle breeze blew through the gauzy curtains, and Aifa could swear that the cold touch of the mist on her forehead felt almost like a kiss. Grandmother didn’t say anything, she just smiled and offered her a sweet, then took one for herself and placed the plate back on the table, for the guests.
“So, what do you talk about with the dead?” the girl asked, munching on her treat, feeling a little unsettled in the presence of an entity she could not see.
“Well, if they were alive, what would you talk to them about?” grandmother said. “It makes no difference, living or dead, especially on this day; souls don’t change just because they passed from this life. We are all immortal, granddaughter. Some of us have bodies, and some of us don’t, that’s all.”
The sounds of the dancers moving through the streets drew closer, accompanied by drums, and cymbals, and cheers, and singing, urging everybody to get out of their houses and join the celebration in the streets. People were slowly walking the rocky pathway down to the sea, without stopping from their eerie dance of flickering lights, not even for a second. There wasn’t a single person in Cré who didn’t join in this dance, which was now city wide. Regardless of their age or ability, they danced, so that those who had been away from this world for a while would be touched by how much joy their return had brought to the living.
When they arrived to the beach, people floated their luminous lanterns on the sea, and the tides drew them farther and farther away into the open waters, until the entire liquid surface lit up, like all the light of the city had flown into the sea. There was nothing left to see in the growing darkness of the night but the motion of glowing lanterns under the stars, an entire assembly of ghostly lights moving around, seemingly on their own, their halos concealing the presence of their invisible hosts.
“Why are we casting lights upon the water, doyenne?” Aifa said, as she placed her glowing paper lantern on the water, and pushed it gently to move it away from the shore.
“To guide the spirits back to their realm,” grandmother replied, watching the ever moving sea of lights melt into the horizon.
“But why here?”
“Water is the symbol of the spirit. It permeates and nourishes every living thing, and then transforms itself, yielding to the will of nature, always in motion but never consumed, recreating itself from its own essence and always rejoining the eternal sea. It then rises from it, as clouds, and comes back to us as rain; it yields to any shape, and yet, nothing can really contain it: it needs to flow, otherwise its essence is fouled. It is this very essence that flows through you, and through me, and through every bird and flower, and through all of those who have been before us, and all of those to come. It is timeless, ageless, all encompassing, and it is its nature to be free.”
The glowing hosts of the dead pulled away slowly from the shore, as if they were sorry to go, and were trying to get one more glimpse, one more smile from their loved ones, to hold them over until the following year. Aifa didn’t know why, but she was very sad all of a sudden, and she would have jumped into the water to reclaim her lanterns if her grandmother didn’t stop her.
“Let them go, child. You’ll see them again. Besides, your ancestors are always with you, they are a part of you. They brought you into being, you are carrying their essence for as long as you are walking this earth. If you want them to be happy, love your life, express your gifts, teach your children. There is no better way of honoring the gift of the life they gave you than by living it fully.”
“What about the Twins, doyenne? Why can the Twins always come back, but not the other people?”
“I don’t know. There are many things in life we don’t understand.”
The celebration continued in the streets, bearing testimony to the fact that Aifa was not the only one who had trouble letting go. And yet, there was no sadness in it, and no regret. Here and there groups had gathered on the beach, to see the spirits off and tell their stories. Events came back to life in those stories, and the people in them too, and if one really paid attention, one could almost see the beloved ghosts move about and nod their heads to agree or disagree with the depictions. In this emotional sea of souls, one was no longer sure which side of life one belonged to anymore, and this was just as well. In the end, what was the point of living if one was never allowed to return to the banks of the Silver River.
“What is your story, granddaughter?” grandmother asked. Aifa didn’t have a story to tell. Her life revolved around the Twins, and her home, and whatever activity she happened to be involved in at the time certainly was not news for her grandmother. “Very well, then. Let me tell you one of mine. When I was your age (oh, don’t look so shocked!), I had a dream. In it, I found myself on an island, where I realized that I wasn’t alone. From all around, people approached, carrying torches and walking slowly towards me, stepping on giant river boulders, overgrown by soft grasses. I didn’t know how, but I knew they were all dead, and yet, I wasn’t afraid. They had so much love for me, I don’t think I could ever feel so much love again in my life. I knew I was home, and safe, my soul at peace. You see, granddaughter, this door between the life and the afterlife, that opens once a year, usually only works one way. The spirits can come visit us, and they can go back, but we, in our heavy bodies, can’t follow them there. But in that dream I had, I was granted passage to their world, and now I know there is no reason to be afraid of it.”
“What happened after that, doyenne?” Aifa asked, her eyes as big as saucers.
“Nothing, dear. I woke up,” grandmother laughed.
“Those people there, did you ever figure out who they were?”
“Not really, see? That is just the thing! A group of people I have never met in my entire life had so much love for me it was almost impossible to bear. It is one of those things we can’t make any sense of in our waking life. I can only assume they must have been my ancestors, from long ago. That is what I’ve been trying to tell you. We make so much fuss over our chores, over being good enough, but for them, we don’t need to conquer or achieve anything, just our being here fills them with inexpressible joy. You are loved so much, granddaughter, more than you will ever be able to comprehend.”
“What were they doing there?” Aifa continued, now really curious and determined to get to the bottom of this subject.
“I really don’t know. I don’t know why they were carrying torches in the middle of the day either.”
“Oh, was it the middle of the day?” Aifa clarified, since she’d been assuming, given the torch detail, that this story took place at night.
“Indeed. The most beautiful summer day with blue skies and warm sunshine,” grandmother clarified.
“Did you see where they were coming from?” Aifa asked, even more curious.
“From the hill,” grandmother answered, frowning imperceptibly.
“No,” Aifa shook her head. “I know that they were coming down the hill, but where from?”
“You don’t understand, granddaughter. They weren’t coming down the hill, they were coming from the hill. Come to think of it, I should have been scared witless about that too. There really is nothing you can be afraid of in the afterlife, it seems.”
“Why do you think you were given that dream, doyenne?” Aifa asked, hoping to hear some explanation filled with metaphysical meaning.
“Maybe I ate too many sweets before bed,” grandmother drenched her enthusiasm for the worlds beyond. “That should be a lesson for you: never overindulge. Come, granddaughter, we need to go home.”
Aifa was quiet all the way back, but secretly planned to grab a plate of sweets and finish it off before she went to sleep, to see if she could recreate the conditions of the experiment.
