The People We Love

Today would have been my father’s 90th birthday.

I spent part of the day on our property in Mexico, El Huizachal, thinking about him and feeling how much of him is still there. That is him on the label, sitting under a huizache tree on the land he loved so much.

Several years ago, I had a few bottles made with personalized labels from the property. Technically, because of where and how this particular spirit is made, it is referred to locally as destilado de agave, not tequila. I appreciate that distinction because it honors the traditions, the regions, and the names that carry meaning in Mexico.

Today, I took one of those bottles to the small distillery just a couple of parcels away and asked them to refill it with blanco destilado de agave.

It was such a simple thing to do, and yet it did not feel simple inside.

Being on the property today was tender. My father loved that land. Something happened to him when he was there. He would lose 20 or 30 years in spirit. His energy would come back. He might be fixing a fence post, walking the property, checking on something, imagining something, or simply standing there taking it all in, but the land seemed to bring him back to himself.

It kept him young.

And today, being there reminded me how much the people we love continue to live in the places they loved.

These are the things that matter to me: family, the people we love, the people who love us, the places that hold our stories, the memories that still have breath in them, and the legacy passed on to us, not only in property or possessions, but in responsibility, affection, presence, and the quiet ways we continue what others began.

Efraín, the maestro who built the house for me about twelve years ago, is going to build a small tribute for my parents on the property. He loved my father too, and his wife did as well. Together, we chose the location.

It will be south of the house, between two baby jacarandas that are just starting to catch root and grow, close enough to still see the home.

At the end of the year, I will bring my parents’ ashes to Mexico, and they will be placed there in the tribute. Family will gather, and we will remember them both. We will honor the life they lived, the love they gave, and the legacy that continues through us.

Included above is a rendering of what the tribute will look like, along with other photos from the property and the young jacarandas beginning to take root there.

And I imagine we all have something like that: a person, a place, a memory, a responsibility, something that keeps the fire burning inside us. Something that brings a tear to the eye, or makes us pause, clear our throat, take a sip, and remember what is sacred.

My Auténtico Self™