Dia de los Muertos

HOLY DAYS  • MUERTOS • LOVE

Author: R.R. Shakti, PhD

My daughter, Marley, was 5 years old when she decided that she does not like trick-or-treat. While her little friend marched brazenly up to each house, Marley stayed hesitantly behind. I tried to encourage her. I said, "If you say ‘Trick-or-Treat’ and smile, they'll put candy in your bucket.”

She nodded, put on a brave face, and went up to the door. It was covered in spiderwebs and opened slowly as she approached. A mummy greeted her with a large plastic pumpkin full of treats. She reached in quickly, picked one, then scurried back to me.

"Mom!" she cried, "This is ridiculous! I am not supposed to take candy from strangers...and these strangers are actually monsters!"

She had a point.

In that moment I was haunted by my own childhood memories: fears and spiritual sensitivity over the harrowing themes of halloween. I felt a little squeamish. Had I just told my child to smile through her fears so that she could get some candy? I knelt down beside her and pulled her close. "You never have to trick-or-treat again if you don't want to."

A month later the movie COCO was released in the theaters. It tells the story of Dia de los Muertos and the profound beauty of remembering our ancestors. Marley and I decided that the following year we would build an ofrenda to honor her great-grandparents. When October came back around, we were ready. We had researched the tradition and had gathered stories and wedding photos, sugar-skulls and marigolds. We build the most beautiful altar. We make Grand-Anne's goulash recipe and Grandma Weirenga's chocolate chip cookies. We even place a can of beer on the ofrenda for Grandpa Redding.


My husband shares memories of his grandparents. I tell stories of mine. Marley listens with presence and curiosity. There is gratitude and a sense of belonging in her eyes, as we gaze upon the photographs of our ancestors. We honor the love that brought us here. We revel in the light each soul brought to the planet. And we honor the mystery–the unseen journey on the "other side." We embrace the unknown with peace and wonder as we trust in the ultimate fulfillment of Love.

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Early that December, my mama transitioned to eternity. Her tango with cancer, which had begun just before my daughter was born, had finally come to an end. Marley had always known her grandma as both a magnificent, radiant light and someone whose time was short. She was living with cancer and she was dying from cancer. Through it all, she was joyful and full of grace–a living example of boundless Love.


It is no wonder that the Halloween I grew up with–the parody of monsters in costume, the glorified horror of death–just doesn't resonate for my kid as much as does the ritual of the ofrenda. And as we place my mama's photo on the altar each year, we light a candle as a symbol of her enduring presence in our lives. Her Love. Our Love. Eternal Love. The light of Love illuminates darkness and dispels fear.

We celebrate that light.

​holy days. love. shadow.​
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