I'd been feeling a tug for the past few weeks. My soul was asking for more ritual, more connectedness with nature and our ancestors, more meaningful ways to mark the changing seasons. After a remarkably difficult fall, I ached for these things.
We are not a religious family, and I don't have any plans for us to become one, so I thought I'd find some inspiration researching pagan traditions – and read about Samhain (pronounced "sow-ween") just in time. It's an opportunity to celebrate the harvest and mark the beginning of the winter, and is believed to have Celtic pagan roots. Some also see it as a chance to honor those who have died in the past year. We borrowed the rituals that resonated with us, and had a Samhain dinner for just our small group of three. I hope to make this an annual tradition and expand our guest list next year.
Here's what we did...
We all dressed nicely – me in a dress, Kristie in an alpaca cardigan she'd bought at the New England Fiber Festival, Miles in a button-down. I taped a big piece of paper to the table, and sketched rough "place settings" for each of us. We piled the table with fresh flowers, lit candles, small pumpkins Miles had painted, and photos of each person (and dog) we lost this year.
For dinner we had a fall vegetable and rice casserole (recipe from this book – affiliate link) and gluten-free cornbread from a box mix. I made gluten-free carrot cake cupcakes with cream cheese frosting for dessert – a practice bake for Miles's birthday cupcakes. We ate dinner together while talking about those we'd lost, with smiles and tears. I read this poem out loud.
It felt wonderful to create a space for us to grieve and honor, to slow our lives down for just an hour and observe the shifting seasons. We'll do it next year, too, we said to each other as we cleaned up.
I believe it could go unsaid that we'll plan for another in the hopes of far fewer losses in the coming year – but I'll say it anyway.
