If I could wrap myself in cempasuchil (orange marigold flowers) as though it could attract and lead my abuelita’s spirit into my arms so she could give me a hug I would.
I’d pay millions of dollars for another one of her hugs and I’d still be rich in life to have her here again and feel her love.
But my alternative to that is to create a path of these flowers on my floor leading into my home in hopes that when she arrives, she’ll bring the comfort that brings out my childish smile and laughter.
Día de los Muertos is one of the most important holidays in Mexico and Mexican-American culture.
Its origins can be traced back thousands of years and during that time it has evolved into a blend of Catholic traditions and Mexican mysticism, according to a 2023 New York Times article.
The holiday recognizes death as an integral part of existence and life, the celebration is a way to remember and honor loved ones who have died, according to the same article.
Día de los Muertos is often misunderstood because it has several different facets that make it much more complex than any other holiday I’ve ever known.
Día de los Muertos has a comedic side, with large Catrinas dressed up in feathers and brightly colored sugar skulls.
La Calavera Catrina is a well-known character who symbolizes Día de los Muertos, she is a tall female skeleton always dressed colorful who is believed to have originated from the Aztecs who worshiped a “Goddess of death,” and she is an essential part of the Mexican tradition, according to a webpage from the Day of the Dead holiday website.
It has an artistic side with altars displaying so many different colors as though they were blooming flowers in spring.
Día de los Muertos also has its rather sad and nostalgic side, paying tribute to your loved ones who have died.
This can be as tender as salt in a wound or as smooth as a remedy like vaporub.
The holiday is supposed to evoke different feelings for every person and it involves different variations of celebration methods and traditions.
No one celebrates it the same, but each celebration matters.
Death is one of the hardest things every person has to deal with in life and eventually we all must encounter it.
Wouldn’t you want a guarantee that you’d be remembered and celebrated for the person you were?
The first time I personally felt loss, my heart plummeted six feet underground.
I froze, became numb, I felt a tear fall from my eye down to my cheek so simple and smooth I thought it was sweat. I wanted to run, not cry, not fall apart, but run.
When Día de los Muertos would come around in the following years after my abuelita died, I kept thinking why would I celebrate and try to remember such a devastating point in my life.
A point when I felt like I lost everything including myself. Why would I want to relive that cold numb feeling?
But more importantly why would I want to try remembering my abuelita when right before she died she wasn't even herself anymore.
I lost my abuelita to Alzheimer’s when I was 10 years old. She was my role model, the person who loved and took care of me.
Since she died, I’ve done a lot of things that have helped me heal, including trying to support the cause of Alzheimer’s awareness.
But it was hard to want to acknowledge Día de los Muertos again.
She was this strong, independent, self-sufficient and very religious woman.
Somehow, in the end, all of those things about her were reduced down to a woman who couldn't even remember her own name. She couldn’t recall the names of her grandchildren or remember how to eat, talk, walk or breathe.
In some ways it had already felt like I lost her before she passed, and it was a terrible feeling, but her death was the final knife to the gut.
Yet I was supposed to think that sugar skulls, flowers and pan de muerto is gonna fix that?
My family became disconnected, we weren’t always close to begin with, but even more so now with my grandmother gone.
It’s the kind of disconnection and loss that a functional family should want to talk about to feel relief.
But instead, we were the classic Latino family denying that anything was bad or wrong. We denied that mental health and emotions exist even though they do.
My mother put such effort into finding ways to cry in secret.
But honestly I don’t judge her for it, seeing as I have no idea what it must be like to lose a parent, and I naively hope I never will have to know.
My mother had already been through this once before but it still must have hurt like hell to go through it again, especially when you hold it all in.
I know it made such a long lasting impact on her life even if she didn’t show it. I always worry for my mother but she has her own ways of honoring the dead too that are not just restricted to a single day.
We have never actually celebrated Día de los Muertos as a family. We never made altars or put out food, the most we did would be going to the cemetery and putting new flowers on my grandparents headstones.
Celebrating just never seemed essential or necessary, especially when my grandma's death was still an open wound.
In the three years that I've been away from home, I’ve made some attempts to celebrate. Now, I
wholeheartedly want to celebrate Día de los Muertos in every way I possibly can.
The older I get the more I reflect on my life and all my relationships with my family members, I think about how I can mend relationships or make peace with them.
I think about how every relationship has impacted my life or how they still impact me now.
Some of the relationships I reflect on are one’s I didn’t get to have.
My grandfather died when I was 3 years old, I can't remember the sound of his voice or the way he smelled, even his face is sometimes a blurry image to me.
I had my grandmother but sometimes I fear I am also starting to forget her voice and the feelings and sensations of having her around.
But she’s been this grand person in my life who I’ve always put on a pedestal.
She still holds so much importance in my life.
She’s a source of comfort and security, especially at times when I feel most alone, insecure or when I feel like I lack unconditional love in my life.
I try really hard to remember how much she loved me unconditionally, it’s difficult because that love feels gone but I know it’s there.
I see her everywhere, I specifically associate her to butterflies. There’s a reason why but that memory is only for me.
I feel like when I’m going through a hardship in my life and I’m so restless I can't sit still and I walk around outside or go to a park and I see a butterfly, I think to myself “It’s her, trying to remind me everything will be okay.”
I fall apart every time that happens, instead of wanting to run I let myself sit still and reflect.
I don't want death to be this sad thing for me years after my loved one has died, I don't think anyone should want that.
Yes, sometimes butterflies make me cry but it’s because I know that no matter where I am physically or mentally in life, my abuelita is here for me.
When I have kids I want to teach them about Día de los Muertos as soon as they can understand its complexities, not just because it's part of their culture. I want to tell them all about our relatives’ lives so they know what strong, humble and amazing people they come from.
I don’t know anything about my grandfather’s and grandmother’s lives when they were young. I wish I did.
I wish I knew what they were like in their 20s and maybe I’d feel a little better about going through the tempestuous times of this age.
That’s what Día de los Muertos means to me, it's a celebration of one’s life even after they’ve died.
Why wouldn’t that be beautiful?
Most importantly, I think Día de los Muertos helps remind me to slow down. I get so busy and stressed and I lack clarity in my life sometimes.
The holiday is a reminder of my roots, a reset on my priorities and an aspect of my motivation for all my goals.
It’s like I still have my abuelita here to tell me to slow down, buy some flowers, take time to breathe and remember that I’m loved and I’m strong.
This celebration reminds me that I come from humble people who did everything to give me a better life. I’m here to tell their story and keep them living even after death.
I am the product of love and of life and that’s worth a celebration and lots of cempasuchil and chocolate waiting on an altar for my grandparents.
