For me, a Oaxacan, Día de Muertos is not a single day, but a season—a reunion that fills the gap between the living and the departed. The celebration is woven into the fabric of our family life, starting with weeks of meticulous preparation that bring the community together.
Preparing for the Return
The anticipation begins long before November 1st. My family and I visit the local markets, where the air is thick with the scent of cempasúchil (marigolds), whose bright orange petals we believe guide the spirits home. We carry armfuls of these flowers, along with sugarcane, fruits, and the special pan de muerto (bread of the dead) with its decorative bone shapes.The heart of our home during this time is the ofrenda, the altar we build to honor our loved ones. It is a labor of love, a vibrant canvas of memories and devotion.
- Photos of my grandparents and great-grandparents sit on the top tier, so their faces are the first thing the spirits see.
- Candles light the path, illuminating their way through the darkness.
- Papel picado, the colorful, intricately cut paper, flutters with the gentlest breeze, symbolizing the wind and the fragility of life.
- Their favorite foods—my grandmother's beloved mole and tamales, my grandfather's mezcal, and warm Oaxacan chocolate—are arranged as a feast for their essence. A glass of water is also set out to quench their thirst after their long journey.
- Sugar skulls with their names etched on the forehead remind us that death is an inevitable, yet sweet, part of the cycle of life.
The Vigil at the Cemetery
On the night of October 31st, we head to the panteón (cemetery) to keep a vigil. The scene is magical. Thousands of candles illuminate the graves, creating a sea of flickering lights under the inky night sky. The air is filled with the sounds of live brass bands and the quiet murmur of families talking, laughing, and sharing stories about those who have passed.I remember one year, speaking with an older man named Eusebio who was carefully arranging candles on his family's gravesite. His face was full of light, not sadness, as he described the altar waiting for his father, grandfather, and great-grandmother at his home. It was impossible not to feel the profound depth of this tradition, the sheer joy in remembrance. We bring our own food and mezcal, toasting our ancestors and sharing the atmosphere, an experience that feels both nostalgic and incredibly alive.
The Joy of Remembrance
For us, Día de Muertos is a celebration of life, in all its vibrant, colorful joy. We do not fear death; we see it as an inseparable part of the human experience, a cycle where our loved ones return to us once a year. The street comparsas (parades) with people in elaborate costumes, giant puppets, and music are a testament to this joy.When the spirits return to the underworld on November 2nd, the altars are bare of their essence, but our hearts are full. We have connected with our past, shared our present with them, and ensured their memory lives on. This eternal flame of remembrance is what makes Día de Muertos in Oaxaca unlike anywhere else in the world. It reminds me that as long as we remember them, they are never truly gone.
