Of course Imelda finds out it's hard to get rid of all evidence of Héctor. She got rid of music, she'd burned the letters he sent to her, the words of lies he sent just to string her along. She locked away his toys and her favorite pictures of him, not wanting to set fire to those objects because somewhere in her heart she knew she'd regret it more than anything else. And even some of Imelda's most concrete memories of her and her husband had started to fade from her mind, courtesy of all of the new orders pouring in each day and her having to be constantly working to get them done as soon as possible.
Now Imelda understands why Héctor always likes to be moving (other than the fact that he can't help it). Now she understands why her parents always told her that constantly moving around and focusing on important tasks was a good skill to have. If she's focusing on her work and teaching her brothers the new skill and taking care of Coco, there's no reason to be thinking of Héctor and how selfish he is.
So then, if this is true, why does Imelda still find herself thinking of him?
It's mainly because of Coco. Since she was born she was almost purely just like Héctor, from her passionate stubboness to her boisterous energy to the way she runs to Mariachi Plaza and bounces up and down to the tunes played there when her and Imelda go into town. Imelda has had to give stern lectures to her on more than one occasion when they return home.
Her looks are almost exact, too: the way Coco grins, her lips curling upward in that all too familiar joking but respecting and loving way. The big, expressive brown eyes that sparkle with joy when she hears music but dim and close when Imelda chases the musicians away from their house. The tiniest hint of freckles that dot her cheeks, too small to be noticed. Her wistful voice that is filled with compliments and sometimes objections, that turns to a sharp bark when she laughs. And her thin build, slightly bigger than Héctor's, but no one really notices that, either.
Coco is and always will be a nearly exact representation of Héctor, and that's what gets Imelda's mind working when she doesn't want it to.
She would love it if Coco was more like her, if she didn't have any of Héctor's features woven into her face or personality, but Imelda knows that's not possible. Still, every time Coco laughs, Imelda thinks of Héctor's high giggle. When she sees Coco dancing and is later dragging her away from those stupid musicians, Coco often wailing and trying to break away from Imelda's grip, Héctor's relentless attitude and the way he used to dance with the both of them get stuck in Imelda's mind.
She's gotten good at hiding it, but there are some times when tears fall from her eyes without her finding out immidiately, when her heart twists and she noticeably drops what she's working on to bring her hand to her subtly pounding chest. On weekends especially, when she has no need to be working and one of the only things she can do is play with her daughter, Imelda finds her lips quivering from joy that Coco takes after Héctor so much and longing to have the real Héctor by her side.
At least Coco has stopped asking about when Héctor's coming back. She knows he's not. But Imelda knows Coco still thinks of him, no matter how many times Imelda has told her not to. Imelda nows that, deep down, just like her, Coco wishes that Héctor were here to sing for them and play with her.
No matter how much Imelda tells Coco not to think of him, to stop singing their song, to let go of her foolish longing for her papá because of how pointless it is, Coco never listens. And Imelda doesn't know whether or not to be proud that Coco is keeping Héctor close her heart or angry that she even dares to think of him.