In the heart of Mexico, where old customs mingle harmoniously with modern life, one festival stands out—a brilliant, colourful reminder that death is not the end, but rather the continuation of life’s journey. Every year, on 1st and 2nd November, the living gather to honour the deceased in a festival that captures the heart of Mexican culture. This is Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, a time when families come together to memorialise and honour those who have passed away, accepting death as a normal part of life.
Though Dia de los Muertos is commonly connected with Catholicism and All Souls Day, its origins can be traced back to pre-Columbian Mesoamerica. Long before the arrival of Spanish conquistadors and Christianity, Mexico’s indigenous peoples, particularly the Aztecs, practiced rituals and ceremonies to honour the dead. These pre-Hispanic tribes saw death as a transition to a new stage of life, not the end. The souls of the departed were considered to reside in Mictlan, the underworld, where they would wait for the perfect moment to be reunited with their loved ones during a memorial festival.
When the Spanish arrived in the 16th century, they brought with them Catholic traditions such as All Souls’ Day and All Saints’ Day, which took place on November 1st and 2nd, respectively. Instead of replacing indigenous practices, these new religious customs melded with traditional Mesoamerican beliefs, resulting in a unique hybrid known as Dia de los Muertos. This syncretism enabled the event to evolve into a celebration that was both deeply spiritual and profoundly cultural, honouring the dead while expressing present ideals.
While All Souls’ Day in Catholicism is solemnly dedicated to praying for the dead to help their souls in purgatory, Dia de los Muertos is a more festive celebration. It is a time of celebration, not grief, as families prepare magnificent ofrendas (altars) to welcome their ancestors’ spirits back into their homes. Ofrendas are decorated with images of the departed, their favourite meals, marigold flowers (known as cempasúchil), and candles to direct souls back from the afterlife. The mixing of Catholic and indigenous traditions is most seen in the symbolism of the sugar skulls, which signify both death and the sweetness of life.
The shift from the sombre tones of All Souls’ Day to the joyful celebration of Dia de los Muertos illustrates Mexico’s indigenous peoples’ endurance and ingenuity. They turned a Christian ceremony into a cultural expression that represents the idea that life and death are inextricably linked. This dichotomy is what distinguishes Dia de los Muertos from other global commemorations of the dead—here, death is accepted, even mocked, as an unavoidable part of life’s cycle.
Perhaps the most prominent image linked with Dia de los Muertos is La Catrina, the elegantly dressed skeleton who is frequently seen wearing a wide-brimmed hat and flowing robe. While La Catrina may appear to be a classic emblem, her story is considerably more recent. José Guadalupe Posada, a humorist and political cartoonist, designed the figure in the early twentieth century. Posada’s original illustration was a commentary on Mexican society, ridiculing the upper class’s infatuation with European dress and denial of their indigenous heritage. He portrayed death as the great equaliser, not something to fear—whether rich or poor, we all face the same fate.
La Catrina rapidly became a popular Dia de los Muertos symbol, representing the belief that death is part of life’s natural order and should be embraced with grace and dignity. During the event, ladies frequently dress as La Catrina, painting their faces to resemble skulls and donning expensive outfits. This act of transformation is more than just honouring the deceased; it is also a means to reflect on the ephemeral essence of existence. As La Catrina reminds us, death happens to everyone, but how we live—and are remembered—is what matters most.
Dia de los Muertos has spread beyond Mexico’s boundaries, into popular culture around the world. In recent years, the festival has acquired international attention, thanks in part to films such as Coco, which eloquently depicts the essence of family relationships and memories. Despite its expanding global appeal, the celebration’s heart remains firmly anchored in Mexican custom.
Families in Mexico continue to visit cemeteries on Dia de los Muertos, bringing food, music, and storytelling to their loved ones’ graves. The cemeteries, which were previously silent, are now filled with laughter, songs, and the smells of food as the living commune with the deceased. This cultural continuity demonstrates the festival’s ongoing force, and it serves as a reminder that honouring the deceased is as much about maintaining their memory as it is about celebrating life.
While Dia de los Muertos’ essential aspects have stayed consistent, the event has not been immune to change. Large parades and public festivities, like as those staged in Mexico City, have recently emerged as significant features of the celebration. Media and film portrayals have contributed to the increased scale and prominence of these events. Despite the more commercial parts that have arisen, Dia de los Muertos maintains a strong sense of personal and social connectedness.
For many people, this event serves as a link to the past while also motivating them to think about their own mortality. The ofrendas, skulls, and La Catrina all serve as reminders that death is not to be feared, but rather accepted as part of the journey. This love-filled and reverent approach to death is what distinguishes Dia de los Muertos.
As the marigolds grow in vivid orange and candles burn in the darkness, the spirits of the departed return to partake in the warmth of human recollection. Dia de los Muertos is more than just a festival; it is a celebration of life through the prism of death, demonstrating the power of memory. Each altar tells a tale, and each contribution symbolises the strong links of family and love. We are reminded of the value of life and the lasting power of memory when we commemorate the deceased.
According to the well-known Mexican poet Octavio Paz, “To the people of New York, Paris, or London, ‘death’ is a word that is never uttered because it burns the lips.” The Mexican, on the other hand, visits it frequently, mocks it, embraces it, and sleeps with it. It is his favourite plaything and his most enduring passion. And it is in this joyful dance with death that Dia de los Muertos stands out as one of Mexico’s most meaningful expressions—a reminder that by remembering the dead, we also honour the living.
