Becky Reyes: Blog

One might think this is a scary or gruesome moniker to go with a scary and gruesome day, but the reality is that Day of the Dead is a grand celebration of the folks who have passed on. We honor the dead and include them in the festivities. We build altars, have small celebrations in the graveyards. Some of us even picnic at the grave sites and set a place for the departed.

I experienced my first Day of the Dead celebration when I was in a convent in Mexico around 1970 (Colegio Esperanza - Cananea, Sonora). I was a city girl from Los Angeles in a heap-o'-trouble and was sent to this convent to "straighten me out". It was culture shock to say the least. We had a very cloistered and disciplined lifestyle at the Colegio Esperanza and when we did go out, we were not allowed to stray from the group and were supervised very closely.

I remember that the nuns gathered us together and marched us to the graveyard where we were to help clean up any forgotten graves and decorate them with flowers. It was a very somber mood as we walked toward the graveyard, two by two, but when we arrived, what I found there was just the opposite of what I expected. Instead of people standing around the graves, quietly mourning, there was a carnival-like atmosphere and people were celebrating! They were playing music, sharing meals, vendors were selling sugar cane and candy apples, graves were being decorated with marigolds, balloons and altars that included little paper maché skeletons in dioramas that depicted the deceased in every day situations with furniture and tiny pieces of pottery. I remember seeing small bottles of tequila among the flowers on certain graves, as well as plates of food left as an offering. I also remember a little gray-haired nana talking softly to a grave, half-praying and half-telling the deceased the news of the year, sometimes crying and at times laughing softly as if sharing a private joke.

It has been many years since that day and I have celebrated Day of the Dead or Día de los Muertos many times since then. I remember the wonderful people in my life who helped form the person I am today: My maternal grandma and grandpa, Ignacio and Rebeca Gaytán; My dad's mom Angelita and her husband, my wonderful step-grandpa Gilberto Moulinet; My wonderful great-aunts Tía and Minnie; my cousins Xavier Reyes and Mickey Davis who both died of AIDS related complications, both artists in their own right; and the many friends who have passed over the years who are now too numerous to count but remain dear to me. This week, I celebrate their lives and remember them lovingly, joyfully.