Thank to some lovely billing muck-ups with my insurance company, on Halloween I was playing catch-up to chemo (I wore a knitted fish hat as a costume. Funfun ). So, holy week started a day early, on the 30th.
A note- I start celebrations the night beforehand. Yet another reason to start on the 30th.
The offering stood all throughout the week, to specific spirits, deities, and one extra for benevolent I-know-not-their-names. Baron got his own shot glass of Cross Keys rum and unspecified other (basically those not dead and not Baron) got honey whiskey in a brandy snifter.
Day 0 and 1-
Crossed bones and black candles open the way. White candles to honor the Dead. Plus a bunch of assorted Very Important doodads for Very Important people.
First of November. No pictures. This was a day for my close ancestors, the ones I knew and the ones that I’ve heard about ever since I can remember. It mostly involved a really old photo album and a weepy hedgehog girl.
Bon Samedi! The second of November!
I went to work dressed in Baron colors, wearing skulls and bones around my neck and a death head grin on my face.
Third of November, a day for the land and the turning of the seasons. No pictures, minor altar changes.
Fourth of November. All my Dead and my Honored Ancestors got libations (and boy did we libate).
In a word? Cleanup. Finding suitable repositories for holy booze (sacred earth and graves of the beloved dead) and offertory candy (secreted in particular places around the agricultural fields around here suitable to who they were for).
And then? Then I slept for a LOOOOONG time.
So yeah, that was Hallow Week. With an unexpected loss; due to misguided care, I killed my Bird. I never even too a picture of her. I learned a very very sad lesson. Love can kill as easily as anything else. May I never have to learn it again. May I always remember so I do not cost another beloved their life.
Goodbye Bird. I love you. And I’m sorry. So, so sorry.