My name is Juan Pablo Chávez. I’m an international lawyer from Mexico. If I had to choose a tradition that best helps people understand my country, I would choose Día de Muertos—the Day of the Dead.
In Mexico, we have a unique relationship with death. Of course, the loss of a loved one remains a difficult and sad event. But at the same time, we try not to view death solely as a tragedy. For us, it’s important to remember the person, talk about them, and preserve the things that connected them to life.
One of the main traditions of Día de Muertos is creating an altar de muertos—an altar in memory of the departed. It resembles a small pyramid on which a photograph and items associated with the person being remembered are placed.
If the person loved tacos, tacos might be placed on the altar. If they enjoyed hiking, you can leave items that remind you of the mountains or travel. We choose what was important specifically to that person: their favorite food, hobbies, and habits. That’s why every altar turns out to be special. It’s as if it tells the person’s story through the things they loved while they were alive.
There is a belief associated with Día de Muertos that in early November, the souls of the deceased can return to the world of the living. That’s why families prepare altars for them and leave their favorite belongings and food on them—so that a loved one, even if only symbolically, can be close to the family once again.
These days, cemeteries in Mexico are filled with people. Families visit the graves of their loved ones, remember them, and spend time together. But Día de Muertos isn’t just about candles, flowers, and memories. In our culture, death also goes hand in hand with humor.
For example, we have calaveritas—short poems in which we can joke about death. Death itself becomes almost a character in its own right. We call her la Flaca—“the Skinny One”—or la Huesuda—“the Bony One.” We use images of skeletons, laugh at them, and sometimes even seem to laugh at death itself.
To someone from another culture, this might seem strange. But this is precisely how the Mexican worldview manifests itself. We understand that death exists, but we try not to let our fear of it rob us of our joy in life. Mexicans generally love holidays, gatherings, and moments when people come together.
At the same time, attitudes toward Día de Muertos change with age. Today, a child might view this holiday almost like Halloween—as a time for colorful costumes, unusual characters, and sweets. As a child, one tends to notice the outward aspects of the tradition.
As you get older, you begin to see more to it. Behind the decorations and festive imagery lies the theme of family, remembrance, and the connection between generations. You start to reflect on what remains after a person is gone and how they will be remembered.
Should the Day of the Dead teach us how to live? I think it should. But in reality, that doesn’t always happen. Tradition can give us a reason to pause and reflect, but it’s up to each person to decide what conclusion to draw.
For me, one of the main ideas behind the Día de Muertos is this: true death is oblivion.
A person doesn’t die when their body disappears. They truly die when they are forgotten.
Perhaps this is precisely what someone from another culture can learn from Día de Muertos. As long as we speak the names of those who came before us, tell their stories, and recall their favorite foods, habits, jokes, and moments from their lives, they continue to remain a part of our family.
Memory becomes a way to preserve a person even after death.
