How I Celebrate Life on the Day of the Dead

Día de los Muertos is for remembering our loved ones who are no longer sharing our lives with us. It's a time to remember their favorite things, how much we miss them and the heartache of how to keep them alive in our hearts.

Every year as November 1 approaches, it's bittersweet to honor my daughter Marcela and my son Edward, still in shock that they are no longer here. I try not to remember those heart wrenching moments that brought me to my knees each time, or the days after that consumed me in tears and devastation. But those memories are also part of the journey of grief and healing.

Every year we have set up their altars pulling out the pictures, their favorite foods. And of course Hennesy for Edward. A crown for Marcela hoping she is finally wearing it and owning it. Taking lots of care to set up everything just perfect: the candles, the colors, papel picado and flowers. This is more than a ritual as I wish with all of my heart to somehow get closer to them, if only for a few days as the veil to celebrate together opens up. It is mostly during this time that I get to talk about them freely with others and keep them alive that way.

I wish they would visit me, but it hasn't happened and I wonder why. I think about how excited Marcela would be that my nephew Alejandro is in his senior year at Wash U and how lovingly she cared for him growing up. I think about what a difference my son could have continued to make with young people. Edward loved being a mentor and helping students. I think about the pain of their loss and channel their spirits every day. It's usually on this day and their birthdays that I feel closets to them and also the most pain and I think of all of the other mothers who have lost children. And so I make time to text my sisters hello and send my nephews and nieces emojis to let them know I love them.

Día de los Muertos has always been a part of my culture, these last few years it's also been a part of my grieving journey. I had never thought about life and death like I have in the last three years. It could be anyone of us and that reality scares me more than I care to admit - that one day someone will be putting up an altar for me.

By diplaying the details of their lives in this way every year, I remember their laugh and their smile. Their lives still not fully transparent and wondering why and how. To be honest, some years the altars stay up most of the year as I am afraid of forgetting them and wanting to be reminded every time I walk in the house. I breathe in the pain and weight of their absence and pray they are in a better place. Hoping they find their way home, attracted by the memories and space we have created for them and the stillness of their absences. I shed a few tears and with a heavy heart I am grateful for their lives and grateful to them for their example while I try to live inspired, resilient and continue on this journey.