travelswithalice

All Saints Day. We were all there. Everybody to whom Mommy and Daddy mattered. All of us their children, their grandchildren and great grandchildren. (There were a few exceptions of course, but there always are.)

It still feels oddly strange that Mommy was not with us to visit Daddy's crypt, as she was last year and every year before. That she herself was there to be visited hasn't even sunk in yet.

The point is, the family gathered together to pay homage to our dearly departed. It's a family thing.

It's also a Filipino thing. In cemeteries, memorial parks, and church crypts all over the country, masses of people come to bring flowers, to light candles, and to pray in memory of their dead.

Families gather in tight conclaves, going through their own time-honored rituals. Loving attention and respect are accorded family elders who had marshalled their strength to attend this all-important annual pilgrimage to family burial sites.

Some families have religious services held at their stations. Some pray together, while others keep to themselves in quiet contemplation.

As all-night vigils are commonly held, some put up tents or marquees, under which they serve simple refreshments. Others opt for more elaborate feasts and while away the time by playing mahjongg.

It really all depends on attitudes, temperaments, family traditions, or simply the size of the real estate involved: anywhere from grand mausoleums to tiny niches on walls.

For the younger people, there is also a bit of socializing involved. They walk around, as in a party, sometimes in packs, eagerly searching the crowds for familiar faces.

All Saints Day after all is a feast. The manner in which it is observed may vary, but it remains one of those traditions that truly define and unify a people.