Día de Muertos

The hostess at one of our favorite restaurants.
Apparently silicone survives death.

One of the celebrations Oaxaca is well-known for, in addition to Night of the Radishes (I can't wait for that one!), is Day of the Dead. The streets are teeming with tourists anxious to experience this 3-day spectacle which includes parades, fireworks, costumes, decorated altars, tapetes de arena (sand carpets), and visits to local cemeteries.

Death as an extension of life.

Beginning on October 31, people begin preparing for the return of the spirits of deceased loved ones. Gravesites are cleaned and decorated with marigolds, celosia, lilies and candles. Families gather together at the site, eating, drinking, remembering, and ocassionally playing music and singing. Día de los Angelitos is celebrated on November 1, in rememberance of infants and children, and on November 2 all others are honored

A typical alter with the favorite foods of the deceased. After
the deceased has consumed the "essence" of the food, the
family can dig in.

We've been swept up in it all.  Friday night we went to the cemetary in Xoxocotlan (nicknamed Ho-Ho) to see the decoration of the gravesites. I couldn't believe what met us there; street musicians, hawkers selling all sorts of illuminated props, strangers offering us shots of mezcal, a stage with performers (including some traditional Tunas from Spain). And some of the altars created at the tombs were incredible.

These new friends were anxious to share
their beer with us!

Parade of the Catrinas on Saturday night.

This is all what I had been prepared to expect. Ironically, what I hadn't expected was the grief. Most families seemed serene, even joyful, as they decorated and tended their loved-ones graves but there were some who were expereincing the raw pain of loss. With a lot of people watching them. But what surprised me most was the grief that I felt at the sight of the lonely graves, the ones that were not decorated and seemed forgotten, especially when they were next to those that were so lovingly cared for. Randy and I bought a bunch of marigolds, put flowers on some of those bare spots and wondered what the stories were behind them.

Many of the crypts in the San Miguel cemetery hold remains
of "desconocidos" or unknown people.

 My Dad died almost one year ago and Randy's Mom has been gone for 7. We created an altar for them in our casita, with the traditional sugar skulls, candles and favorite foods. I spent time thinking about what my Dad liked in life, great times we had together, sayings he had ("It's better than I deserve," "I fell uphill," "There's nothing better for you").  The atmosphere in Oaxaca has helped to keep his memory close these days.

Our alter included art supplies and candy
 for Judy; coffee and peanuts for my Dad.

A tapete de arena, or sand carpet.

Día de Muertos is such an odd combination of grief, celebration, entertainment, reflection, letting go and holding on. Just like life, I guess.