The loss of a loved one brings grief, tears and heartache that often takes years to heal. Yet as the first of November rolls around each year, the air in many a Hispanic household fills with the sweet scent of pan de muerto, a soft, round bread infused with anise and orange zest. Home altars are filled with marigolds — their petals a fiery orange — candles and brightly painted sugar skulls.
These symbols of Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) in Hispanic culture are far from mournful or somber. Instead, they’re a joyful tribute to departed loved ones, blending pre-Columbian traditions with modern expressions of love and remembrance.
Día de los Muertos, celebrated throughout Latin America and by Hispanic communities in the U.S., is a vibrant tapestry that weaves together past and present, allowing us to connect with our ancestors while grounding us in our own lives.
The holiday traces its roots to the rituals of Indigenous peoples of Mexico, where skulls were crafted in spectacular ways to honor deceased relatives. When Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 16th century, these traditions merged with Catholic observances, shifting to align with All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. In Catholic traditions that go back for centuries, these have been celebrated on Nov. 1 and Nov. 2, respectively. All Saints’ Day also has been long known as All Hallows’ Day — which, in Western Europe, long ago piggybacked onto the Celtic holiday of Samhain. This was a festival in which people would, in the darkening of the year, light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. Over time, the two holidays combined. The night before All Hallows’ Day became known as All Hallows’ Eve. Or, as we now call it, Halloween.
In the Americas, this blending of beliefs gave way to communal celebrations that view death as part of the life cycle.
So although the Día de los Muertos relates to Halloween, the two have distinct beliefs and practices that should not be confused.
“Just as Halloween’s pre-Christian roots are Celtic, the Día de los Muertos has roots in Indigenous Mexican and Central American cultures,” said Stephen Winick, a folklife specialist at the Library’s American Folklife Center. “It’s generally a more solemn and reflective holiday, with a greater focus on remembrance of ancestors and deceased loved ones.”
He continues: “In the modern context, Día de los Muertos is also an occasion for social gatherings, music and culture festivals, parades and costume contests.”
The Library holds a wealth of resources in multiple formats — books, films, photos, graphics, recorded performances and recipe books — that delve into this rich history.
The AFC released late last year a series of never-before-seen photos of a Día de los Muertos festival in Oakland, California, in 1999. The annual one-day street festival began in 1996 as part of a revitalization effort of the Fruitvale commercial area in a primarily low-income Latino community.
The Library’s Hispanic Reading Room displays an elaborate altar every year that evokes those found in Mexico and among Mexican American communities throughout the U.S. These altars typically include freshly cut marigolds or cempasúchil flowers whose vibrant colors and strong fragrances are said to guide the souls on their journey home. There are also candles, photographs of departed loved ones, some of their favorite albums, foods, drinks, spirits and sentimental trinkets.
Mexican communities also organize parades and gatherings, complete with skeleton costumes, dancing and music. Playlists for the holiday would be lacking without a rendition of “La Llorona,” the weeping woman of Mexican and Latin American ghost lore.
It’s the tragic story of a woman who mourns her three children whom she killed in despair after her wealthy lover — and father of the children — abandoned her to marry another woman. Her anguished wails echo through lonely places as she seeks revenge on men for her heartbreak. There are multiple versions of this legendary character, surfacing as a ghost in some and as an immortal wanderer in others, but always weeping loudly at nightfall.
Other people in Latin America celebrate the holiday in a more subdued fashion, attending mass and visiting cemeteries to decorate burial sites with colorful wreaths. Fizzy drinks and savory meals are on the menu to dine with the dead, along with prayers and music. In Mexico and parts of Central America, tamales boiling on the stove and freshly baked pan de muerto are special treats for the occasion.
Papel picado (perforated paper), sugar skulls and other depictions of calaveras or skeleton figures, are also used to illustrate the symbolism of the legendary celebration. The Prints and Photographs Division houses one of the most extensive collections of works done by Mexican printmaker and lithographer José Guadalupe Posada in the U.S., including a treasure trove of prints, some featuring miniature Catrina calaveras — elegant female skull figures symbolizing death’s equality.
Spanish is rich with humorous phrases and sayings that celebrate life in the face of death. Some are used to mark someone’s passing, to mock death or for setting the tone for the holiday’s love-laughter-remembrance theme. People gather to share memories and stories and honor the legacy of loved ones because “to live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.”
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