tepitome:

Out of respect, I didn’t take a lot of photos of Día de Muertos (I didn’t want to intrude — this isn’t my tradition to celebrate, nor will it ever be), but being said, the time, effort and consideration families put into remembering their loved ones is beautiful, and the graveyards were spectacular, so I apologize for not sharing.

Millions of flowers isn’t an understatement — people walking through cemetery gates holding so many marigolds all you can see of them is legs — roses stacked higher than cars — bouquets as tall as the children who carried them… thousands of families weaving throughout gravestones, setting up picnics beside loved ones young and old, having conversations, leaving mementos…

Welcomed with three tamales and a hot spiced drink, it’s perhaps the first time I’ve experienced a graveyard as a meeting point. This isn’t a sad event, yet it isn’t a party. Merely a reconciliation surrounding something that pulls everyone together — death.

I remember when I learned about death — death? Death wasn’t something to celebrate. Death was something to run from. Death was something to fear. Something indecipherable. This ends?? My viewpoints have changed since then, but I think I’d have saved years of fear if I’d grown up with this tradition. It’s just life… you’ll be gone, but you’re still here. Somewhere. You’re still family.

I don’t know a lot of the dead. Perhaps that makes me lucky. I’ve visited gravesites of two family members, years ago, but that’s it. I feel bad for them now… they loved music. I’ve never sung to them, played guitar, brought them their favourite records, their favourite foods, books, a drink, even the smallest of conversations. Nobody has. Maybe they’d like that.

I know Día de Muertos, I get it, I’ve heard of it for years, but experiencing it first hand is beyond words. I’ve never felt a tradition makes more sense than this. This is comfort, this is understanding, this is love. This isn’t a celebration of death, it’s a celebration of the dead.

Thanks for letting me be a fly on the wall Mexico,

-Hayden