A Night At The Pantheon

Smiling skulls danced and twirled around her. Drums banged and fireworks exploded overhead. Children in costumes littered the pavement, some pretending to stab each other, some pretending to be dead. Adults in their colourfully embroidered finery painted their faces and adorned their heads with flower garlands. Rainbow paper streamers fluttered in the night breeze, and skeletons and skulls grinned down from every building, every corner. And everywhere were the glorious orange marigolds, a carpet of bright petals leading the way from the zócalo to the cemeteries.

Sam was in heaven. She loved Mexico and it had always been her dream to experience Día de Muertos. Finally, she was here for that once in a lifetime experience. She arrived at the biggest pantheon in the city where the party was in full swing. Revellers joked and laughed and danced among the graves. Music played and songs were sung, the notes floating over the tombstones like a warm and gentle wind. There was food and drinks and feasting. Although it was night, the cemetery was bright and warm, bathed in the orange glow of the candles and the flowers and the joy of families celebrating the lives of their loved ones.

“I remember when we were kids,” said one jovial middle-aged woman with a marigold tucked behind her ear. “He used to drive our parents crazy! One year, he ate all the food Mamá had prepared for the ofrenda. I’ve never seen her so angry. And I was furious with him too because she made the whole family stay in that day and help her make more food.” The surrounding family members roared with laughter.

“I’m sorry but it needed to be done!” said a smiling grandma with crinkled eyes and an orange glow.

Sam stopped in her tracks as she looked closer at the grave they were sitting around. She was sure that was a picture of the grandma smiling out at her from the tombstone. Sam shook her head. She must be mistaken. She couldn’t exactly go up and get a closer look. She continued making her way around the pantheon, drinking in the jubilant atmosphere.

“They brought Coke!” one boy shouted in delight. “It’s my favourite!” His family chuckled as he rushed forward to grab a cup of the fizzing dark brown beverage. He closed his eyes as he gulped it down, then let out a huge hiccup.

Sam took a step back in shock. Now, that was definitely a photo of the young boy inside a frame sitting on the edge of the gravestone. There was no mistaking those ears. Her heart was pounding as she stared intently at the family. It wasn’t just her eyes playing tricks. They did all have an orange glow about them, their features somehow brighter and more radiant than those of the family members who sat on foldout chairs around the tomb chatting amongst themselves. She looked around frantically.

Now that she was really watching people, she noticed that the same was true of all the family groupings. Although sat together in a big circle, there was a divide. There were some aunts and uncles and grandparents who were brighter than others, with an almost unearthly radiance. And they didn’t seem to be talking directly to the family members without that ethereal orange glow.

“Are you okay?” asked a voice to her left.

Sam tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

A young man stepped out of the shadow and into the candlelight. “First time at Día de Muertos?”

Sam nodded, her heart still beating furiously.

“Don’t be scared,” the young man reassured her kindly. “This is a happy day. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Are they… dead?” Sam finally managed to whisper, indicating the young boy with the Coke and his jovial family.

“Of course!” The young man laughed at the petrified expression on Sam’s face. “It’s November 1st, the night the dead return to the land of the living. It’s a celebration, where people visit their families, eat, drink and share memories together.”

“Oh my God.” Sam started to panic, her eyes wide and her legs shaking with fear.

The young man laid a calming hand on her arm, and she felt a sense of peace wash over her. “You have nothing to fear from the dead.”

“But why are we the only ones who can see them?” Sam asked in confusion. “Why can I see them but their families can’t?”

“You’ve passed over,” he told her gently. “You’re one of us now.”

Sam shook her head, shocked. For the first time she noticed his pale orange glow, and she instinctively looked down at her own hands. She was stunned to see that same otherworldly radiance in her own skin, and her wrists encircled with marigolds. “It can’t be. I didn’t die. I would know if I died.”

The man shrugged. “The gateway between the land of the living and the land of the dead is hazy around Día de Muertos. You probably didn’t realise. Don’t worry so much. Death is not the end. It’s an extension of life, just on a different plane.”

Sam stared at him wordlessly. She didn’t know what to say. How could she have died and not realised? She looked at the ground, blinking back tears. All of a sudden, she felt two warm arms wrap around her. She looked up to see the crinkly-eyed grandma she’d noticed when she first entered.

“Try not to be sad,” she whispered kindly. “I remember when I crossed over. I didn’t realise I had died either! It can be a shock.”

A nearby aunt nodded vigorously. “Definitely! I didn’t know for three days! I lived on my own at the time so didn’t speak to anybody for a whole weekend!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you. When sunrise comes, we’ll bring you to the land of the dead and help find your family. Now, let’s get you a drink,” said the grandma, looking around at what was on offer at the gravesides. “Do you like wine? There’s a good Argentinian red.”

Sam nodded and smiled, taking the proffered glass. The grandma raised her glass and toasted, “La muerte!”