In Coco, either Pixar's third- or fourth-best movie, our child protagonist learns the importance of family, both the family here on earth and the family that has since passed on. Because this is a Pixar film, this theme is played out literally—the ghosts of our dead ancestors can come visit us once a year, so as long as their pictures are displayed on that night in the household, in their loving memory. Those who are honored with a picture can cross over; those who are forgotten completely disappear from the land of the dead.
The message is made clear to kids and adults watching Coco—it's really important to honor those who came before us. This lesson places the responsibility solely on those who are living. It is up to us to remember them, to look back at our family members who have passed away and find the best aspects about them, to find something worth remembering, and then to remember them as hard and as often as you can for as long as you can.
Now, clearly this theme was created and is perpetuated by individuals who are afraid of death, and who are worried what their own legacies will mean after they die. It's scary to think that one day, you'll be gone, and everyone you know will be gone, and no one will remember you, and it'll be like you never existed. No one wants that to happen. You want to leave a lasting legacy, a positive impact on this earth. Very rarely does that happen though, as much as you try, so it's up to those you left behind to remember you.
I don't do a good job remembering or honoring my loved ones that have passed away. And if I don't know how, then I haven't spent enough time trying to figure it out.
Sometimes I think about the exception to my constant failures—after my Grandpop's funeral, we all drank his favorite beer in the parking lot. I think and hope that that was a good way to honor him (I am confident he would have enjoyed it, if he could be there in Coco-ish ghost form), but that act of honoring him was easy to pull together, because it was something that I was already good at (bringing people together to drink beer). It was coincidental that it also happened to honor a man that I loved and missed.
I can't think of any other time in my life where I was able to adequately honor someone who deserved my remembrance. I think back to my Grandmom, who passed away after Grandpop, maybe a year or so after. My family tried to honor Grandmom in a similar way: in the same parking lot after a luncheon at the same restaurant, drinking alcohol, but this time with little mini-bottles of Grandmom's favorite wine (pink zinfandel). It was nice, but it didn't ring true. Grandmom wasn't one to lounge around with family and drink wine. She was always on her feet, making sure that everyone else was well fed and watered. She always worked the edges of the room, as opposed to being the center of it.
I, and we, didn't know how to honor that type of personality. I just kept thinking that she was be so appalled at the idea that we'd even have a funeral for her—she hated being the center of attention. She was selfless to a fault. I loved her dearly, and I miss her, and I remember her, so if the Coco afterlife exists, she's still there, puttering around, making sure all the other skeletons have had enough burnt grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup, but I don't know if she's able to cross over. As a part of her family that was left behind, I feel like I'm failing her.
And if that's my Grandmom, then imagine all the other family and friends I'm failing. A couple months ago, a family friend Barb passed away. Not only was she close with the K***s from being my mom's friend for so long, but also Barb was my boss at the Laf, back in the day. She hired me. How many times have I mentioned my old high school job on this blog? How many memories have I shared from that time in my life? None of it would've been possible without Barb. She was so good to me over the past few decades. Willow uses a water cup with her name stenciled on it, and I remembered after Barb's death that Barb was the one who bought it for her. I think about Barb all the time now, whenever I see that cup.
But how am I honoring Barb's memory and legacy? Is it unfair to invoke her name in the service of a self-deprecating blog post? Is this was I call honoring someone close to me? Guys, I'm so bad at this.
I've been thinking about this a lot, as the viewings of Coco in our household stack up day after day. I look at Willow and Martha, and I'm so sad that they'll never know Great-Grandmom and Great-Grandpop K***, mostly because they weren't alive when they were, but also because I'm not doing anything to keep their legacies alive. That's the circle of life, I guess. Or maybe it's a K*** thing. What do I know about my own Great-Grandmom? She too passed away before I was born. I know she owned a bar in Kensington. That's pretty much it. My dad doesn't seem all that anxious to pass down that part of the family legacy to me, via pictures or stories or what have you. So I dunno.
It cannot be denied that Coco makes a strong case for honoring loved one as best you can, and it's a lesson I'm going to try to take to heart from now on. There are people in my life, both presently and previously, who are worth remembering, and I'm going to do a better job remembering them.
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| clearly I need to do a better job in archiving photos of Grandmom and Grandpop as well... |
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