by Adam Zuehlke, photo by Silvio

Eli Azar, our comical and hard working dishwasher, found out at the end of the night that his father had just died. I saw him begin to cry through our kitchen’s yellow tinted saloon doors. When I came back to give him a big abrazo I had the natural tendency to console him like most people would. Having not thought about it too much, I told him verbatim “las experiencias pesadas verdaderas tienen gusto de esto, pero emplear su desarrollo en edad viril.” After a few minutes passed and I thought of what I said in broken Spanish, I realized this young 24 year old man from Oaxaca was now the bread winner for his family. One of our servers asked him if he needed to start planning arrangement to go back home for his fathers funeral. He responded by saying that his job was to earn money up north to support his family in southern Mexico; perhaps the most unselfish thing I’ve heard anyone say.

What happened as work was ending last night kept me awake for a good hour in bed, I started thinking about death from a cultural perspective. A morose subject indeed but perhaps the cycle of life is a cultural meme that encompasses many emotions beyond sadness. No better example than “El Dia de los Muertos” festivities that take place on the 2nd of November, recognized by most Latin Americans. I know on that day Eli Azar will be thinking about his father, perhaps even getting drunk. “In vino veritas” why should he ignore the spirit of someone who was so close to him, it’s healthier to embrace the joy and sorrow all in one chaotic mess. On “Dia de Finados” Brazilians attend churches and cemeteries in block party fashion; in Spain there are festivals and parades. In the small town of Patzcuaro where I lived for a summer, people sleep by the graves of friends or family members that have kicked the bucket. They even have picnics with the favorite food of the person they are honoring.

It seems most North Americans may only feel comfortable visiting death one time for each individual they’ve cared about. We have a ceremony immediately after it happens which we take seriously & then it’s recommended we mourn in private. The whole philosophy behind the holiday that honors the deceased seems very Old World because just one day before is the celebration of rebirth, (considering November 1st recognizes infants & children) and they’re celebrated consecutively.

Being scared of death reminds us of our own mortality which is perfectly normal in order to absorb the zeal that life can give us with day-to-day experiences. An existentialist would say that human beings go their entire lives without ever fully connecting with anyone, we will indefinitely remain solitary in our own thoughts and views of the world, do we all die alone? However a comforting counter argument reveals that people we care about (whether dead or alive) stay with us in spirit, they’re not forgotten. The essence of these characters remain. My mother has always told me “you never know how you are in the memory of someone else.” A very true statement.

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Adam and Silvio sent this report from the Mysterium in Northeast Minneapolis.