I never realized how important Halloween was to me, but death sees everything through a magnifying glass.
Ever since I was little, I’ve loved costumes, dressing up, and doing makeup. Halloween became the perfect occasion to let my imagination run wild. My hubby, on the other hand, didn’t care for it much. He was almost indifferent to it, but he adored me and our kids, so he would humor me time and time again, go along with my plans, and dress the part.
We had SO much fun doing family costumes! It was a lot of work for me, planning and getting everything for everybody, but I loved it!
The first Halloween after he died, I was a literal zombie (pun intended), walking the streets with our kids because they wanted to go trick-or-treating. I felt dead inside but was still living. It was painful.
But the real stab in the heart came last year.
Our boy was doing his thing with his high school friends. Our girl and her group of friends were doing Alice in Wonderland. They were going to meet up at a friend’s house, get dressed, go trick-or-treating, and then have a sleepover. Since I’m good friends with the parents, they invited me over.
The day before, I found a costume on sale at a store. “A nun. $12. SOLD!”
So I did the work to mentally prepare myself, psych myself up, and gather enough energy for the night and the social interactions that were sure to happen.
I got to my friend’s house, the one hosting the girls, and it was vibrating with tween girl energy. Helping each other with hair and makeup. Beautiful. As the time came to go trick-or-treating, my friend was going to go with her husband and her youngest, while the girls were going to do their own route. I naively assumed I could join them.
“Thank you, Mami! See you later!” she replied joyfully.
“Hey, have so much fun, babe!” I said, as I felt the knot in my throat start to grow, the tears gather, hoping to escape down my face, and my chest get heavy.
I have never been punched in the gut, but I imagined it would feel something like this. The thoughts crept in quickly, too…
I am so alone.
What do I do now? Should I go back home? Who else is having a party? I mean, I dressed up! I could already picture myself going back to my house, eating and drinking alone in front of the TV.
“What are you going to do?” my friend asked, interrupting my thoughts. “I think I might go home, since I’m no longer a welcome trick-or-treater,” I said jokingly.
“You could come with us, we’re just going around here.”
“Sure!” I said. “Absolutely! Let’s go.”
It was the best of all the options my brain had offered. So we walked around an area where Halloween was on steroids. A great distraction. We went into a few people’s houses, chatted with strangers, and had some wine. We ended up at a mutual friend’s house, talking until the wee hours of the night.
“Thank you so much for inviting me!” I said. “This was a lot of fun.”
I said goodbye to our girl, got in my car, and checked in on our son. On the drive back home, I was finally able to let the tears roll, have a good cry, and honor the deep sadness.
The sadness for the life we had lost, for the person who was gone and whom I missed so much. And alongside it, a sense of joy and pride. Our kids were growing up and finding their way, without us, a little bit at a time. Another reminder that he wasn’t here for those moments. To have fun with it or cry, but together, with each other.
This year, my sister is coming with her boyfriend from Oregon, and we’re having a party at my brother’s house. We’re dressing up as Disney’s Haunted Mansion characters, and I am SO excited.
Mostly because I won’t be alone.
🧟♂️🎃👻🐈⬛🍫🍬
Hasta la próxima! Until next week
Peace.
