Kerry-Anne Allerston|Published
There are so many public holidays and religious celebrations throughout the world, but one of my very favourites is Día de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead. I think there’s so much we fear as human beings, and we all have different struggles and phobias, but the biggest has gotta be losing the people you love, right?
It’s so wild to think you’re born into a family and, if you’re lucky, you get to love each other through all the chapters that follow. Then we go looking for a special somebody to call our valentine. Some do zero searching and land up marrying the person they met in high school. Others are on every dating app, go to every singles night and join every running club, even though they don’t actually run, just so they can potentially meet “the one”.
That’s a whole lot of unnecessary cardio in the name of love.
Anyway, whether you search far and wide for what feels like a hundred years or you’re gifted with that love right from the start, we don’t get to keep each other here forever. I’m not writing this little piece to sound morbid.
I just think it’s weird that we can’t opt for the vampire option so we can do more lives together, especially if we haven’t had enough time in this one. The thought of seeing my peeps in the next life, or another one somewhere, does make me feel a little better. I don’t know what happens after we leave here, but there’s comfort in imagining that the goodbye might not be forever.
That’s why the Day of the Dead is so my thing. Celebrated in Mexico mainly on 1 and 2 November, it brings together Indigenous traditions and Catholic observances of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day.
Traditions vary between communities, but many families remember children who have died on the first day and adults on the second. At its heart is the belief that loved ones who have passed away return for a visit, welcomed home by the people who still love them. There’s something so gentle and beautiful about making room for somebody even after they’ve gone.
Families prepare ofrendas, or home altars, with photographs, candles, bright marigolds and favourite foods and drinks for those they’re remembering. They also visit and decorate graves, make offerings and share memories, with traditions passed down through generations.
It’s colourful, special and really unifying, with space for both sadness and celebration. I love celebrating a Monday morning or the opening of a garage door, so celebrating the life of somebody you loved, and still do, seems like a really good idea to me. I wish we made more room for that kind of remembering throughout the year.
I started thinking about all of this because I’m sitting looking out at the café across the road in Bristol, and they’ve got all their Halloween stuff up. I love Halloween, and I’ve been lucky enough to celebrate it in other parts of the world to where I live like Nashville and Bristol. The food, the decorations, the fancy dress. Sign me up for all of it.
Celebrated on 31 October, Halloween has roots in the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, which marked the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter, when spirits were believed to walk among the living. Its name comes from All Hallows’ Eve, the evening before All Saints’ Day.
Over the centuries, those traditions developed into the costumes, carved pumpkins and trick or treating we know today. Quite a journey to arrive at somebody’s front door dressed as a skeleton, asking for candy.
Looking at those decorations sent my mind wandering back to Mexico. Imagine getting to experience Día de los Muertos there and learning about it from the people whose families have celebrated it for generations? Now that would be something. Until then, I think I’ll take a little inspiration from it wherever I am on those dates and make time to remember the people I’ve loved so much and lost along the way.
Maybe I’ll put out a photograph, play their favourite song or have something they loved to eat. A little space to say, “You’re still part of my world.” And perhaps a reminder to phone the people who are still here, too.
However you’ll be spending yours this year, whether you’re floating around in a ghost outfit, watching Coco or The Book of Life, or eating all the candy yourself before anyone knocks on the door, have a good one. Tell your favourite humans you love them, save a little space for those you miss and maybe leave a sweet or two for the children.
May your life be celebrated just as beautifully while you’re still here as it is once you’ve moved on to the next plane. Preferably with your favourite people, excellent music and something delicious. I’d like to think love knows how to find us wherever we end up.