Why I Celebrate Day of the Dead

Day of the Dead, also known as Dias de los Muertos, honors our loved ones who have passed on.

As a lover of all things Halloween, October 31st has always been my favorite holiday. Yet beyond the tricks and treats, costumes, witchy, ghoul, and goblin vibes, ghosts of another sort took on greater meaning in my life in 2023. Now each year a celebration of one day becomes three, extending to November 2nd honoring lost family members, specifically my aunty Sue.

Research tells me that in some cultures, Day of the Dead commences on Halloween, and in others, marks the beginning of November, typically the 1st and 2nd, but for me, it will always and forever consist of all three days.

The Backstory; October 2023

In late October 2023, I attended a local mystic fair at the Albany Empire State Plaza. It was my second visit to the Halloween-themed event featuring stands from area merchants selling crystals, herbs, talismans, handmade art, seasonal decorations, candles, etc.

And of course, there were psychics, astrologers, and healers offering readings, both mini-sessions and longer ones to curious patrons; after all, a mystic fair wouldn't be the same without them. So I walked the perimeter of the concourse level fair and was instantly drawn to a striking woman with a table of cowrie rattles. The vibe felt harmonious from a distance drawing me closer. This Shaman offered a half-hour rattle healing at an affordable price, which included one of her hand-made rattles.

Inquisitive me was sold on the spot. I wrote my name down on a clipboard and sat in the waiting area just shy of an hour for my turn to enter the blue tent and receive my healing.

As a believer in all things of the sort, I have also encountered many a fake claiming to possess foresight, extrasensory perception, healing powers, and the like, so while I had no firm expectations, I was certainly open-minded to possibility.

Something just felt "right."

What did I get for my twenty-five dollars?

More, much more than I bargained for.

Upon entering the tent, a Native American woman named Zelda greeted me with such warmth. Her long grey hair, her aura, her voice, her tone- it all made me feel like I was home away from home. In reality, my home was a stone's throw walk, but when I speak of "HOME" here I refer to something much deeper, something safe, something of a familiar childhood appeal.

To here, when I was three, embracing my love of candles, and open-minded to life, the same life many of us take for granted as we age or scoff at when something unexplainable occurs. 👇

Zelda held out a collection of her handmade rattles and I chose one to my liking. Although this session's focus was on healing and she specifically went into my physical ailments, she began with words that will forever be embedded in my memory.

Here is the front and back view of the cowrie shell I chose.

The following words are the primary focus of my tale which will become much clearer shortly.

"Who is Susan?" she asked. "She is heavily on your mind. You know that she is not doing well."

At that moment, I felt the color drain from my cheeks. How could this woman Zelda possibly know about my aunt Sue? We just met seconds ago and already out of her mouth is an inquiry about someone who indeed WAS on my mind. Oh, my mind, such worry, such dread, such fear had plagued me ever since my parents returned to the States in May from a holiday in my native England.

The source of my constant dismay: a photograph of my Mum and Aunty Sue. A lovely photo, I suppose to most, but to me, a perpetrator of angst sparking sickly feelings and an instinctive reaction to cover the picture immediately.

If the picture could talk, this is what it would say:

"Their final hug; Aunty Sue soon will pass

I managed to keep the adoring picture of two loving sisters in an embrace away from me, however, the deeper, more sinister visual of death had been forever locked in my mind's eye.

Here is said picture👇

Although still frail, Sue was doing much much better than the year before. She was cancer-free after a grueling battle with tongue cancer. Part of her tongue had been removed during treatment and long-term speech therapy enabled her to speak to the best of her ability. She had even lost all of her teeth throughout her ordeal.

Yes, eating, talking, and living life as normal as possible were trying tasks, but she was on the mend and had been.

Again, I say she was cancer-free!

Back to the Mystic Fair...

With my rattle in hand and other purchases from the Mystic Fair, I walked home, reflecting on the event for a bit with heavy emotions. Realizing that humans must live a human life, I made a great effort, proceeding forward with my daily affairs as usual on the earth plane, leaving the "other than" vibes behind.

November 8, 2023, my birthday

Early morning, November 8, 2023, I received a message via Facebook Messenger from Mum, a happy birthday per usual but with an insistence, to be on standby for an email from my father.

Aunty Sue had passed away suddenly that morning in her sleep.

Head in palms, my world fell apart. I don't really know what was worse, the news or the fact that I saw it coming but had convinced myself otherwise. I was sad, devastated, sobbing, and ultra furiously enraged at the same moment. I was angry at the photograph. I was even angry with Zelda for uttering words I chose to keep silent, silent from family, and hushed from self-admittance.

Maybe on some level, I thought denying my feelings would afford the woman I barely knew yet loved so much more time to enjoy her earthly walk, but it was too late, Aunty Sue was gone.

I spent much of my birthday and the days that followed feeling an immense amount of guilt. The last time I saw my aunt was when I was twelve and our communication since had been through greeting cards and the modern day development of Facebook. Although not a strong bond in the real world, Aunty and I had a similar spirit. Mum often spoke of our likeness when I was growing up and I recall how much I loved her laugh and strong presence.

Perhaps I should have done more, reached out across miles through social media, insisted on conversations, conversations I will now never get to remember and cherish all because I did not make the effort.

Effort unmade all because I was scared of a truth I knew in my core, one that a shaman named Zelda knew, too.

Today

Today, November 2, 2024, six days short of the first anniversary of my aunt's death, I have a different outlook as opposed to my woulda, shoulda, and coulda of twelve months passing.

I embrace Dias de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead as a celebration, an overlapping of Halloween into early November with much fondness for my dearly departed Aunty. Bonfire, candles, autumn air, foliage, that certain feeling of the dead being ever present, brings me comfort. There's absolutely a particular spiritual powerhouse at work during this time and instead of running away, I stand with open arms, holding my Aunt Susan close, even if only in spirit.

When my birthday rolls around Friday and Mum, Dad, and I go out for lunch, I will fondly celebrate the woman whose death shares the date of my birth as anything but a sheer coincidence. Yeah, I don't believe in those.

And the photograph that once brought me so much pain is now a beautiful keepsake I hold near and dear to my heart.

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As for Zelda, the shaman, here is a link with more information about a woman I will most definitely reach out to again.

And a YouTube video

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My name is Marilyn Glover. Once a top Medium writer and poet, I traded it all to have a go at it on my own. Returning to my Vocal Media roots delights me and when I am not busy at my day job as a Marriott Operations Manager, I love to read, write, and continue on my spiritual journey. Truth be told, I'd rather write all day, but someone has to pay the bills.

Thanks for reading and remember your loved ones from beyond are always with you!