Día de Muertos and the Power of Shared Grief Rituals

Grieving is an inherent part of change, and things are always changing. Grieving is therefore, an ever-present part of life. The intensity of our grief varies, rising and falling like waves in the ocean. It might feel less paralyzing or exhausting over time, but it does not diminish along a linear path. Grief never leaves us completely. If we pay close attention, we may notice that some amount of grief is always here, with us, although sometimes it is a quiet, subtle grief. Perhaps, we grieve our own death, even if we are relatively young and healthy. We may be grieving the death of another, or grieving one or many of life’s endings, the little deaths that occur daily. 

Grief is complex. Within grief we can find the feeling tones of unpleasantness, pleasantness or neutrality. In one moment, our grief may have qualities of the seemingly unbearable. It may have within it the pleasantness of good memories or nostalgia, and there may also be a numbness, detachment or neutrality. Grieving is not synonymous with suffering, although of course, grief can deeply hurt. We may feel grief emotionally, mentally, physically, socially.

As an expat grieving in Mexico, we may feel separate, alone or with fewer networks of support available or resources to lean on. On the other hand, we may feel freer to mourn in a welcoming, caring culture that can seem less shy about expressing grief. 

Although Mexico and the US share a thousands-of-years-long history and now, a 2,000-mile border, it goes without saying that the culture in Mexico and the US is quite different. This includes how those who grew up north versus south of the border grieve death. I can only speak of the grief in Mexico as someone watching from the outside. My experience as a US citizen living close to nature in rural Mexico, however, is that here, I feel invited to accept death (and grief) as a natural part of our families, our communities, our histories and of course, our future. That death is part of life is simply true. This is a truth that the US over-culture of supremacy, capitalism and hyper-individuality has conditioned us to forget. These systems, after all, depend on death denial.

Death denial can extend into the post-death experience, preventing us from being present with the truth of our grief. We may feel pressure to remain stoic in the face of change, to hide our feelings for the supposed benefit of others, or we may fear facing our grief.

What if, in turning toward grief, we fall into the great abyss of a lifetime of unaddressed loss and the seemingly infinite grief inherent in being human?

Planning in advance for our death or the death of a loved one cannot prevent grief or control the way in which it manifests. In fact, it is important we allow for grief as a natural and necessary means of processing loss. As part of our planning process, we may even lean into grief by intentionally partaking in rituals and practices that invite grief to move through us, welcoming it. 

We may already have a connection to religious or secular rituals, those accompanying burials or the disbursement of ashes, life celebrations such as memorials and funerals. Among the beneficial functions of grief rituals is that they allow us to acknowledge, versus avoid, our grief. Ritual can help us remember that grief is not something ordinary, to be pushed away, but something special and powerful, to be experienced, felt, lived with. Grief rituals might remind us of our connection to nature, to each other and to a mysterious higher power that helps us transcend the individual self.

In search of the comfort that a community-based grief ritual can provide, we may be drawn to Mexico’s most well-known grief ritual, Día de Muertos. As US immigrants to Mexico, however, it is our responsibility to understand the difference between appreciation and appropriation. May learning about the history of grief rituals in Mexico inspire us to connect with our own.   

Día de Muertos as Grief Ritual  

In Mexico, perhaps the most widely known grief ritual is the celebration of Día de Muertos, Day of the Dead. Some claim this tradition has roots in indigenous culture. There is symbolism in Day of the Dead that appears to coincide with death-related rituals of the Teotihuacan, Mexica, Aztec, and Nahua people. Some scholars see a through-line between today’s ofrendas, altars adorned with offerings for the deceased, and offerings excavated from indigenous burial sites dating back 3,000 years. Others dispute this, emphasizing that the presentation of offerings placed on altars (separate from burial sites) occurred only after the arrival of the Spanish. This shift in the practice perhaps arose from the necessity of finding ways to honor large numbers of the dead at once, a response to the devastating reality of colonization. Others see today’s ofrendas as disconnected from indigenous practices entirely, a relatively new ritual introduced by the colonizers.  

There is a story that after the Spanish conquest, indigenous practices for honoring the dead ‘mixed’ with pagan European celebrations of the harvest and Catholicism’s All Saints Day. This feel-good story of blended customs, much like the story of Thanksgiving in the US, may not be true. All Saints Day, instituted by Pope Bonifacio IV in the 7th century, came to Mexico with the arrival of the Spanish, and with it, a prohibition on indigenous death care practices. In secret, indigenous populations attempted to maintain their pre-Hispanic funeral practices, yet these traditions have largely been lost, suffocated over time by forced participation in Catholic rituals. By the end of the 16th century, missionaries wrote in their diaries that indigenous peoples were participating in the November 2nd Day of the Dead rites because they had forgotten their own.

Colonization changed much about death practices in Mexico, as it has all over the world. This is reflected in how bodies are cared for after death. Archaeologists speak of 4,000-year-old Mesoamerican practices of burying the dead underneath the homes they once lived in. The living shared space with the dead, bodies placed in the dirt floors people cooked, conversed, sang and slept on. The prevalent culture accepted and honored death as integrated with life. When the Spanish arrived, they brought with them a culture that predominantly sought to separate and exclude death from daily life. The colonizers introduced the concept of camposantos or holy fields. We know these sites today as graveyards. This form of burial had the effect of separating the dead from the living. Perhaps, strengthening a family’s dependency on the November ritual of holding vigil at the graves of the deceased.

Change and Our Changing Grief Rituals

Our rituals around grief necessarily change as our lives do. Today, Día de Muertos continues to take on new shapes and has embraced new traditions, rooted in popular culture. Mexico City’s famous Day of the Dead parade, for example, came to life only after the 2015 James Bond Film, Spectre, depicted such an event. Día de Muertos is also celebrated differently throughout Mexico and has expanded in some regions to include special days of remembrance. These Dia de Los Muertos events begin on October 27th, when the souls of deceased pets are said to return to our world for a visit. This is followed by special days of remembrance for (or visits by) those who died in tragic accidents, infants and children, and those who have been forgotten or who no longer have living relatives. 

At its core, Día de Muertos is a grief ritual. That it is continually changing and evolving reminds us that rituals, and the grief they address, are continually changing too. The ways in which we remember the dead are very much alive.

Part of the appeal and the effectiveness of this ritual is that it is public in nature. Día de Muertos is a familial, if not community, event. Ofrendas are not only placed in the home, but found in public spaces throughout Mexico. Cemeteries are cleaned and prepared for family visits, and in some regions, elaborately decorated. Grief is public, shared by all and nothing to be ashamed of.

To have a safe community within which we can express our grief and grieve collectively with others can be invaluable. As US citizens, we are particularly vulnerable to experiencing grief as isolating. Not only does US culture teach that it is the job of the individual to overcome, alone, as a hero, but as extranjeros in Mexico, we may find ourselves lacking a close, understanding and supportive community with whom we can share our grief.

Supportive community is waiting for us locally, in the neighborhoods we live in, in our spiritual and religious communities, and among in-person and online groups of others with shared interests.

Within these groups, we can find ways to connect to the shared grief rituals that are most meaningful to us, and thereby, most powerful.

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This has been an excerpt from the book, How to Die in Mexico: An Expat’s Guide to End-of-Life Planning, by Sara-Mai Conway.

On our resources page, you’ll find recommended grief resources. We also invite you to connect with our community via an upcoming live event, or online in our private Facebook group. Do you have a grief ritual or resource you’d like to share with others? Please leave it in the comments below.