For nearly a decade, I have put together a giant ofrenda for el Día de los Muertos inside the library on the campus where I teach. My students help me, and I invite the campus community to place photos of their loved ones on the ofrenda as a way to honor them. For me, it has been a bittersweet exercise. The first year, I honored four relatives—my abuelita María, my abuelito Rafael, my prima Jennifer, and her daughter Janiyah. Since then, I have added photos of my abuelito Beto, my abuelita Hermelinda, my tíos Rafael and Luis, my primo Víctor, and my student Conor. As the altar grows, so does my grief.
Four of my relatives passed away during the Thanksgiving/Christmas holiday season. My abuelita died on Christmas Eve. It’s been nearly two decades since her passing, but I still recoil the first time I see Christmas decorations in public, and I still dread what was once my favorite holiday. What has helped me prepare for this season every year is building the ofrenda for el Día de los Muertos. It helps me emotionally prepare for the two months of grief that lie ahead.
But this year, I just couldn’t do it. Part of the reason was my physical and mental exhaustion. In the weeks before building the ofrenda, I was swamped with hundreds of assignments to grade, side projects to complete, and everyone in my household was sick. By late October, I was TIRED! However, I admit that there was more to it. I’ve felt enormous grief for my community in these past months. My community is terrified, and I feel so helpless. Across the country, our cultural celebrations are being toned down or canceled, there is fear of going out in public and sending kids to school, and I just didn’t feel like carrying on with my cultural celebration as if it were business as usual. Because it isn’t. So I honored my loved ones the way many others had to do this year—not with a public display, but with silent prayers.
I think the next few weeks will look very different than in past years. I know many communities are strategizing and making contingency plans for their Virgen de Guadalupe celebrations and posadas, por si las moscas. I’m sure for many families, Christmas and New Year’s celebrations will also be more muted this year. It is a time of fear and grief for many, but it is also a time for resilience. My hope is that through this holiday season, we may find strength and joy within our families and communities. My son still doesn’t understand Christmas, but my daughter is so excited for the lights, the decorations, and of course… presents! She’s also finally starting to understand some of our family’s religious traditions. I am so glad that she doesn’t get sad during this time of year, and her joy and innocence uplift me when I feel down.
Building holiday memories and traditions with my kids brings back my childhood memories with my family during Christmas. Those days were filled with a lot of love, and I hope I am able to carry on that legacy.
