The Wikiness

On the bottom tier are candles: one at true north, whence comes the cold, one to the south, whence nourishing warmth, one to the east, where the sun rises, and a final to the west, where each day’s light goes to die. The candles orient souls on their long voyage back from the spiritual realm, beckoning them to this one-night only visitation.

And here in the aroma of the many marigolds I have strewn about the altar is a washbasin, mirror, and soap, so that when they arrive, the spirits of my parents can refresh themselves, and see themselves anew. 

They divorced many years before they died, so I have prepared each their own ofrenda.

For my mother the foods are rich and savory: coq au vin from her crockpot, liver and onions, or the lima bean with egg lemon sauce from Rodity’s in Greektown. If the afterlife has not altered her final state, her portions will be small, for she compulsively counts calories and swallows diet pills to curtail appetite. Her beverage on this night will be water, perhaps some coffee from her Mr. Coffee. She died a recovered alcoholic, so of the vodka she used for years to numb herself, I’ll have none. 

She will want to see her grandchildren, her greatest joy when death took her. So here is a photo of them arrayed around her like cute little prizes. And here are photos of them in recent years. She will be pleased to see they’ve all reached a healthy adulthood. 

On the shelf of objects is a ten-year AA coin that says, “To thine own self be true” and “Unity, Service, Recovery” to remind her of her beloved community. Also, to make her feel at home, there is a video of David Letterman, a novel by Pat Conroy or John Irving, and some of her favorite music playing, perhaps Perry Como or Sarah Vaughan. 

For my dad, it is steak and potatoes, perhaps an elaborate Beef Wellington, which he enjoyed making for Sunday dinners. He died unable to eat anything for his last excruciating weeks, so I imagine he’ll have a big appetite. I’ll provide him with some of the salty snacks he loved like pork rinds, Bugles, or Fritos. Like his first wife, my mom, dad ended up a recovered alcoholic, so I’ll have a refreshing Tab or Fresca for him, his favorite mixers, and hold the vodka.

Wafting through the night air is his favorite music–Stan Getz or Ella–and there is a copy of Sports Illustrated, or the sports section of the Tribune available so he can read by candlelight the latest on his beloved Chicago teams. Dad also loved to read fiction, so I might put out a Nero Wolfe mystery or anything by John Updike, one of his favorites.  

As for important objects, Dad–especially when drinking–loved calling his friends and talking for hours on the phone, so here is a push-button landline and his phone and address book. 

Sitting there on the ofrenda shelf next to it is his Marine Corps pin. For though he only gave the service two years of his life, it marked his notions of propriety and order for the duration of his earthly existence.