Why I'm Celebrating Dia de Muertos This Year
Remembering Those We Love
It’s a lazy sunday morning in Puebla, and we watched the movie Coco with our son. It is one of our favourites. Every time I watch it, I end up crying by the end, without exception. It evokes strong feelings in me— and has me thinking about life, death, and my relatives who have crossed to the other side.
A few months ago when we landed in Mexico City, we were in an Uber for over an hour, weaving through infamous ciudad de Mexico traffic to get to our AirBnb. Our driver was exuberant and talkative, excited to share his perspectives of Mexico with us. “Have you ever seen the movie Coco?” he asked. “No, we haven’t.” we said. “You have to watch it,” he explained, “you will understand so much about our culture and traditions— especially Dia de Muertos.”
I always thought of Dia de Muertos (Day of the Dead) as a kind of glorified Mexican Halloween. It is actually a spiritual and religious holiday that predates Halloween by thousands of years. Falling at the beginning of November, Dia de Muertos is one of Mexico’s most important traditions. It’s significance is much more profound than the superficial impressions I had about it, before I watched Coco and then started to look into its meaning and history.
“Traditionally, November 1st honors deceased children and November 2nd honors deceased adults. Day of the Dead is celebrated passionately throughout Mexico, and especially so in smaller provincial towns and cities. November 2nd is an official Public Holiday in Mexico.
Far from being a morbid event, Day of Dead emphasizes remembrance of past lives and expresses celebration of the continuity of life. This acknowledgement of life’s continuity has roots which go back to some of Mexico’s oldest civilizations including the Olmec, Zapotec, Maya, and Purépecha. The Aztecs also celebrated Day of the Dead, although earlier —August— on the current calendar.”
The film Coco beautifully illustrates what it’s all about. The protagonist Miguel is a young musician who accidentally stumbles into the world of the afterlife on Dia de Muertos, meeting the souls of his dead relatives, uncovering family secrets, and discovering his family heritage that has been buried and forgotten over time.
On the night of los muertos, Miguel accidentally knocks a picture frame off of the family ofrenda. Ofrenda translates to offering; it is an altar that is mounted by the family with pictures and memorabilia of all its deceased relatives, adorned with offerings for them. Often, there are Christian symbols interwoven in the ofrenda, including statues of La Virgen Guadalupe, a syncretized version of the Virgin Mary.
Miguel notices that the photo inside the now-broken frame contains a missing corner, a ripped-off bit where his great-great grandfather’s face should be. On his journey in the afterlife, Miguel eventually meets his almost forgotten relative, and is able to piece together missing parts from his family’s story.
It turns out that his abuelo was also a musician, who wrote beautiful melodies for his daughter, Coco, including “Recuerde Me”, or “Remember Me”:
Remember me
Though I have to say goodbye
Remember me
Don't let it make you cry
For even if I'm far away
I hold you in my heart
I sing a secret song to you
Each night we are apart
Remember me
Though I have to travel far
Remember me
Each time you hear a sad guitar
Know that I'm with you
The only way that I can be
Until you're in my arms again
Remember me
When Miguel learns that this song was written for his great-grandmother, Coco, who is frail and close to the afterlife herself, he comes home and sings it to her, so she can remember her father and be at peace.
Of course, this part of the movie is where the tears start flowing. I think about my dear maternal grandmother, my baba, who passed away just shy of two years ago. She was one of the most important people in my life, and our bond was so strong, ever since I was a little girl. In the years preceding her death, we experienced a conflict that left us disconnected until I finally decided that hurt feelings and judgements were less important than the love we shared. We lived far away from each other at that point, and only reconnected by the phone. I soon found out she was dying, and knew I had to be with her, one last time. On the night she died, I joined her at her hospital bedside, whispered memories to her and sang her our special songs, until she fell asleep for her final slumber.
Watching Coco reminds me of the unbreakable bond I have with her. Sometimes, when I am feeling lost, I speak to her, and ask her to watch over me and guide me. I feel her eternal love for me, and mine for her.
Coco is a coming of age story about a boy going against his family’s definitions of him to find himself and his destiny. Ultimately, Miguel reconnects with his roots and authentically reconciles with his family. In watching this film, you will learn not only about the customs of Dia de Muertos, but perhaps personally connect with the spiritual meaning of one of Mexico’s oldest and most cherished traditions.
This year will be our first year in Mexico for Dia de Muertos, and I have decided to partake in the tradition by putting up an ofrenda with my grandmother’s picture, along with her beloved husband, my grandfather. I will put up pictures of my paternal grandparents, and all my great-grandparents, as far back as I can go.
In other modern cultures, the remembrance of the dead are not celebrated this way. After their funeral, we may think of our relatives in our minds, visit their gravesites, or honour them according to our own family traditions. But I think there is something very special and healthy about Dia De Muertos, where people come together to collectively remember, tell stories, grieve, and celebrate those loved ones who have passed— keeping them alive, in a way. Although I have yet to experience it, I get the feeling that a sense of rebirth or renewal of the spirit is possible when you dedicate focused traditions on immortalizing your family ceremoniously.
And in life too, a sense of peace that when you are gone, you will be remembered, too.
If we had never come to Mexico, I would not have gained these new insights, which allow me to heal and experience deeper meaning and personal growth. As I have said elsewhere, travelling is one of the most underrated life hacks for change. Exposure to cultures, customs and traditions, such as Dia de Muertos, that differ from our own, opens up our worlds. Adopting the perspectives and customs that resonate with us can enrich our lives in revitalizing ways.
The villain in Coco has a catchphrase that he uses as a rationalization for his evil deeds: “Seize your moment.” It’s like a twist on Carpe Diem, which Miguel adopts and uses as motivation to do good things, that align with his true self. Our own hero’s journeys often begin with the same notion: everyday of our lives is a day closer to the end. The present is the best time to seize the day and do something with it, and with the rest of our lives.
One day, hopefully we will be remembered in our family’s ofrenda, whether literal or figurative. What legacy will you leave behind? What kinds of stories will they tell about you when you’re gone? What will you do today that will be remembered tomorrow?
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Loved Coco, which I saw a few years ago with my step son. Also loved your films during COVID.
Best of luck with your new ventures, Kate!
Opinionated Kate it is called Dia de ‘Los’ Muertos