Tag Archives: Memorials

Lirio, (Water Hyacinth) FOTD, at 5:55:55 A.M., Sept 18, 2021

Click on photos to enlarge.

For the past year, I have frequently looked at the clock at 1:11 or 5:55 or checked out views and found them at 444. This repetition of numbers happens countless times a day to the point where it has become eerie. But this is the first time it has gone to six digits! Here is proof:

Don’t know what it means.  I also realized yesterday that today would be the 20th anniversary of my husband Bob’s death, so Bob, these lirio flowers are for you!

The lake is filling up with lirio (water hyacinth) again. They’ve had to dredge or poison it a number of times since I moved here 20 years ago as in time it inhibits the passage of fishing boats and numerous people have drowned because they got trapped underneath it. Just last year a man drowned when he went into the water to reclaim a ball his children had mistakenly kicked into the water. Sad.  

Bob, too, lies in this lake as when he died, his kids all came down and one of his sons took the remainder of Bob’s ashes out in his kayak that he had hoped to use in this lake. Sadly, he died before we could move down so I brought his ashes down in the toe of his kayak lashed to the top of our van.  R.I.P. Bob. 

For Cee’s FOTD

Gone but Not Forgotten

Gone but Not Forgotten


This is my above-ankle tattoo done a month ago. Now almost completely gone, except for a shadow. Relax. It was a henna tat.


Remember the 200 baby turtles we released into the sea a week or two ago? They are long gone, I hope, but I still think of them every day.


Day of the Dead altars give us a perfect way to remember departed loved ones in a non-maudlin manner. This is my husband Bob who passed away 13 years ago. Yes. He loved very cold Coke and crullers, but I couldn’t find a cruller, so this little pastry had to do.




Dia de Los Muertos, 2014

Dia de los Muertos, 2014


This is this year’s minimalist altar for my departed: husband Bob, Mother Pat and Father Ben. I wasn’t going to do one. Then Yolanda (my housekeeper) told me about a friend who didn’t  make a Dia de los Muertos altar for her mother who had recently died. This friend then went to see the elaborate offerings of her brothers and sisters, so she brought a rather poor specimen of a pumpkin and told them they could put that on her mother’s grave. That night she had a dream of walking through the graveyard. Every other grave was elaborately decorated with flowers and sweetly-scented candles and favorite foods of the departed: water, whiskey, tequila. When she got to her mother’s grave, there was no light and there were no offerings—only the one poor pumpkin. As she walked by, people shook their heads, and she left in shame. When she woke up, she went to her mother’s grave and took her fresh water, a candle, sweets, and all of the things her mother loved.


It worked.  I assembled an altar. Yolanda looked at it and told another story about how the water and candle help to create a breeze that brings the scent of the favorite foods to the departed. I quickly added a candle and a small glass of water with an ice cube—as Bob did hate a lukewarm Coke! When the ice cube melted, I added a small red heart to take its place. If you look closely, you can see it in the bottom of the glass.


It was my mother’s tradition to tuck a small box of Russell Stover candy into each of our Xmas stockings. One Xmas, we opened them to find only wrappers in each one. Over the course of the weeks before Xmas, our mother had opened each one, unable to resist eating the chocolates. So precedent decreed that I eat hers. You’ll see the empty papers littering the space around the box. (Yolanda, ever-respectful of tradition, helped by eating one piece.)


Although my father raised black Angus and Hereford cattle, this is Mexico, after all, so I think he’d forgive the long horns. A donut and a 10 peso piece complete his offerings. Last year I put a small glass of milk with cornbread crushed in it—his favorite cocktail. But this year the ants have taken over our part of Mexico, so I didn’t dare.