11/02/2026
Yesterday was el Día de los Mu***os, the Day of the Dead. In honor of the occasion, our family watched the Disney movie Coco. It had been my oldest daughter’s favorite movie when she was a toddler, but we haven’t watched it together in years. I had been pregnant with her little brother when my daughter first fell in love with the movie, and we spent a lot of time cuddled up watching movies while I tried to distract myself from morning sickness. Plus it was the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, so we spent a LOT of time at home. We watched Coco many times. “C-o-c-o” was the first word she learned to spell and write.
On April 23, 2020, our son, Luke, was born. He arrived with no heartbeat. Though he was later revived and hooked up to life support, he had sustained profound brain damage due to lack of oxygen, and he lived for only 5 days.
We held his funeral on my original due date. And because it was (still) the peak of the pandemic, a maximum of 10 people total could attend. We gathered with a few family members, and I rejoiced in seeing my parents, my husband’s parents, and my sisters. No one else was there. I hadn’t seen my sisters in person in a long time, and being with them felt like a gift. The sun shined during the funeral, and if you’re familiar with PNW spring weather, you understand that that also was a gift. The ceremony was brief, simple, and heartfelt. We prayed, spoke of Luke and of hope in Christ, and sang. I said that I want to live in a way that honors Luke. We sang “Families Can be Together Forever,” and as I sang those words I meant it. We had also planned to sing “Remember Me” from Coco, but we didn’t end up singing it. Still, to me that song is forever linked to that day and to my boy.
We then watched as Luke’s body was lowered to his grave in a beautiful cherry-wood casket made by my father-in-law. Luke's body rests in an interior padded with white satin, which was added by my mother-in-law. Their tears and love went into that box, and it’s the most beautiful box I’ve seen, for the most beautiful boy.
So today, when the song “Remember Me” came on, it swept me back to those feelings, those memories, my boy. It’s been six and half years, but sometimes it still feels startlingly fresh. To me, those song lyrics will always be mine, for him:
“Remember me
Though I have to say goodbye
Remember me
Don't let it make you cry
For even if I'm far away I hold you in my heart
I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart
“Remember me
Though I have to travel far
Remember me
Each time you hear a sad guitar
Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be
Until you're in my arms again
Remember me”
At dinner tonight after watching the movie, we shared with the girls about el Día de los Mu***os and told them that their great, great grandmother was from Mexico. We talked about Luke and his funeral, and my youngest daughter asked how he was buried, so we talked about that, too. Then we shared about some of our other relatives who have passed away: my grandpa, who loved fishing and would have loved feeding my girls marshmallows, and my grandma, who took me and my siblings to the beach every summer.
There is so much I don’t know about Luke. I wonder about the color of his eyes, whether he would have had dimples like his dad, what sports or activities would have made him feel most alive. But tonight when I heard the song’s words “Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar,” I thought about what I imagine he would have been like. I imagine that he might have learned to play the guitar, like his dad and his grandparents. I imagine that he would have played soccer and loved chocolate chip cookies and pizza, and that he would have been serious and smart and funny. He almost certainly would have had big, round eyes with long eyelashes, like his dad and sisters.
I imagine him, now, in heaven. Sometimes watching me, always rooting for me, sometimes proud of me. I imagine him being held by my grandpa, who I know must love him dearly and treasure having him there with him. I imagine him being friends with Brixton, my friend’s son who was born under similar conditions just days before Luke, but spent a few precious years on earth being so loved by his parents. I don’t doubt the reality of Luke’s spirit living on. I truly believe that someday, he will be in my arms again.
Recently I have had several people I know lose loved ones. And as I consider them, it takes me back to the tenderness of my time with and without Luke. I ache for their journeys and pray that they will find peace and bits of joy even among their grief. I imagine that if and when they hear the song “Remember Me,” they will similarly find their loved one in the words.
Happy Día de los Mu***os. As you remember your loved ones, I hope that you feel a closeness to them and a peace that defies logic. “Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be, until you're in my arms again, remember me.”
