Love Stays: Remembering Our Beloved Dead
Last night I dreamed that my Grandpa Jack was still alive. He died more than two decades ago, yet in the dream I remember feeling such excitement to see him again.
Just a week earlier, I’d had another vivid dream, this time about my Grandma Esther. In the dream, I learned that she hadn’t died back in the late ’90s as I’d believed, and the feeling that swept through me was layered: sadness for all the lost time, and elation at discovering she was still here.
I’ve been wondering about their sudden appearances in my dreams. Could it have had something to do with the Blue Jays’ recent playoff run, since they were both huge fans? Or maybe these dreams were a gentle reminder to bring the memory of my beloved deceased into my daily life more actively, not only during special times of remembrance but in the ordinary rhythms of living.
When the Veil is Thin
This time of year, many traditions say the veil is thin, when the boundary between the living and the dead feels softer and more permeable. There are many ways this turning of the season is marked around the world. One of the most well-known is the Day of the Dead, or Día de los Muertos, a Mexican tradition that honours and celebrates loved ones who have died.
Over the past four years, inspired by a dear friend, our family has created an annual Day of the Dead altar to invoke and honour our beloved ancestors (I’ve written about this here before.) .
We prepare food and drink, set out their photos, light candles, make it beautiful. It’s an act of love, not just for them, but for us.
Each year, there’s someone new to add to the altar; this year, it was our dear Uncle Jim and Grandma Frances. When we see all their faces smiling back at us from the photos on the altar, it feels as though they’re joining a circle of loved ones on the other side.
Remembering our beloved dead is as much a gift to the dead as it is to the living. It reminds us who we are, how we got here, and the people who have shaped us.
Our 2025 Day of the Dead Altar / Photo: Karla Combres
Even after the season of remembrance has passed, there are small ways to keep our loved ones close in daily life:
Lighting a candle or incense at a favourite time of day in their memory.
Holding photos or special objects that remind us of them and pausing for a moment of reflection.
Speaking their name aloud and sharing stories with friends or family
Pausing to practice gratitude for the ways they shaped our lives and letting those moments guide our actions today.
These are all simple yet meaningful practices. They invite moments to remind us that love continues to ripple quietly through our everyday lives.
Moving Through Time
Yesterday, The Globe and Mail published an article online by curator, researcher, writer, and genealogist, Kevin Kitchen, called “Walking Through Toronto’s St. James Cemetery Is Like Moving Through Time”. (You may need to create a free account to read it.) Kevin and I share a curiosity about cemeteries and the role of public mourning spaces. I was grateful to have been interviewed for and quoted in this piece, in which Kevin reflects on what draws us to these quiet, enduring places. (Note, the print version of the article is entitled: ‘Time Travelling in Toronto’s St. James’ Cemetery’.)
In some ways, cemeteries can feel like a last-ditch effort at immortality—a way not to be forgotten. Yet they also stand as tender reminders of our mortality, calling us back to the finite beauty of being alive. They hold the tension between our longing to endure and the inevitability of letting go.
Kevin writes, “The first words I encounter on every walk are poetic and beautiful: Hours fly / flowers die. New days / new ways / Pass by / love stays. They are inscribed on a sundial near the main gate at the entrance to the cemetery.”
Hours fly,
Flowers die.
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
Love stays.
by Henry Van Dyke
Love stays. Maybe that’s what both my dreams and our altar whisper to me: that love continues to connect us, across time and across the veil.
If this reflection spoke to you, consider joining the next free, online Heart of Being Human gathering.
Twice a month, we come together for real, nourishing conversations about the stuff of life: what it means to live with intention, to care deeply, and to keep our hearts open to change and connection.
Photo credit: Emma Love Photography
Author: Karla Combres
As a Legacy Guide & Celebrant, I help individuals, couples, families and organizations make the big and small moments in life count, and shape their legacy along the way. I offer:
Drawing on my vast experience as a Life-Cycle Celebrant and in working with people at the end of life, I am uniquely qualified to help people move through life and its transitions meaningfully and to think about how they want to leave this world so they can live better now.
I’m based in Saskatchewan, Canada and serve clients worldwide. Read more about me here.