The Flower Of The Dead

The one thing they all agreed on, afterwards, was that they had all felt something: All of them had felt a presence or touch, contact or connection. Well, everyone except Hector, who typically had not. He felt nothing and experienced nothing, but he was 12, and 12-year-old boys are not marked for their sensitivity. Hector was usually only motivated by something he could eat or with which he could play soccer. But even he was to have an unexpected experience before the day was out.

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Looking out of the window, Maria watched the day begin.

It was November 1st and the dawning day was clear and bright on the central Mexican plains. The mountains in the distance went from grey to pink to white as the sun climbed higher in the cloudless Marian blue sky.

On the table in front of the window stood two ofrendas, the alter-like table placed to encourage the spirits of the dead to return on this dia de los Muertos – the day of the dead.

Maria had dedicated the ofrendas on the left to her daughter, Ana. It was now three years since Ana had died, a sweet 9-year-old whom death took too soon. In the year since the last dia de los Muertos, Maria’s mother Isabella had also died, and this was the first time the family had created an ofrendas for her, the first chance to welcome her back to the family for the day since she had passed.

Both altars featured vases, each with a ball of brightly coloured and strongly scented marigold flowers, the flor de Muerte – the flower of the dead. The disk of orange against the cool azure blue of the stucco walk mimicked the blazing orange sun in the clear sky outside.

On little Ana’s ofrendas, there was another vase, this one filled with white lilies, the flower of childhood.

Tradition said that the powerful scent and the striking colours of the marigold helped the spirits of the deceased find their way back to their homes on this special day every year. The lilies, adding another layer to the aroma, represented the innocence of children.

Surrounding the flowers were other items intended to encourage the spirits to come home. Happy photos of these people in life were in view. Also, there were dishes with some of their favourite foodstuffs. There were small pieces of fried chicken for little Ana and a potent salsa for her grandmother Isabella. Also to encourage Isabella was a glass of pulque. This alcoholic drink, made from agave like good tequila, was milky white and quite thick and bitter-tasting but had been a firm favourite of Isabella in life, so was present now.

Both ofrendas also had the sweet bread rolls of pan de Muerto with their distinctive bone pattern decoration and a dish of the sugar candied cross-topped skulls.

Maria made final adjustments and then called her family together. It was time to head to the cemetery, where the family would join other locals in a simultaneously sad and joyful event. Everyone would share stories of the family members who had died, and there would be laughter and tears, and maybe a drink or two taken.

Isabella’s grave was next to that of her little grandchild, Ana. The family – Maria, her husband Jose, son Hector and little daughter Camila set to decorate the graves. Each was to have a large cross made from marigolds, and Ana’s would also feature lilies. There were candles in glass jars that would be lit at sunset and would burn all night.

Once they had prepared the graves, the family sat with others, telling anecdotes. Everyone had time to laugh a little and cry a little, and the day passed.

At dusk, it was time to go home. Maria gathered her family once again at the foot of the graves so that they would say goodbye. Jose lit the candles, and the family stood in a row, and that was when it happened, and they sensed a presence.

Jose said he felt Ana behind him. She had teased him by putting her hands over his eyes from behind and telling him to guess who it was. He felt her hands. Little Camilla looked astonished as she described feeling her grandmother Isabella hug her, and she could smell the jasmine scent her grandma used to wear. And Maria could distinctly feel the small hand of Maria in her left hand and her mothers firm and slightly papery hand gripping her right hand. Only Hector did not report any such experience.

Stunned but happy, the family made their way home. Maria was at peace because she believed her mother had joined with her daughter, and they were keeping one another company.

Hector, typically, was most interested in what there was to eat. The pan de Muerto and other foodstuffs on the ofrendas was all available. Tradition said that the dead would eat its essence but not consume the physical food they could share.

Hector quickly tucked into some bread and some chicken and then looked up in surprise: The food was all edible, but he did not find it tasted of anything at all. Maria smiled at him and explained that the dead consume the flavour when they consume essence. Whilst the physical food is left, the taste is often gone. It was a chastened and thoughtful Hector who headed off to bed that evening.

The family settled down for the night after an emotional dia de los Muertos. Maria said a quiet goodnight and told her mother and daughter she would see them next year.