My parents asked that their remains be cremated and their ashes scattered; a wish we, their children, honored. There's no memorial, no sign that they ever existed on this earth. Just the memories we carry in our minds.

Mexican people maintain a lingering connection with those who have gone on before. We certainly see this when the whole country comes to a halt during Day of the Dead (a legal holiday) while families decorate graves and build altars. But acts of remembrance are not confined to just this one day.

I've walked by this nicho on Piedras Chinas many times without seeing it.

But the other day, it jumped out at me. Someone had decorated it. A burning candle had been set out on a purple tissue, tissue the color of mourning.

Liborso Garcia was only 57 years old when he died. I imagine his passing was a blow to his family, he being in the prime of life and probably essential to the well-being of his family. They built this niche for him

I think about my parents every day. I like how the Garcias think about theirs.