‘There’s not a day I don’t think about him’: A mother’s grief turns into a celebration on Day of the Dead
Even though her oldest son died more than two years ago, Jessica Torres waits for him to visit every Nov. 2. She sits in front of the ofrenda — an altar she creates to honor his memory in their home — surrounded by her husband and their other four children until the clock hits midnight.
Per tradition, that is when those who have transcended to the other life return in spirit to visit their loved ones. So Torres, like thousands, perhaps millions of people around the world, embraces the Day of the Dead as a way to celebrate with those who have passed, rather than grieve their loss.
“I look forward to this day all year long,” Torres said. Though she said there’s not a day she does not think about Chris, the celebration eases her pain.
He is present in every hug when she is greeted by his friends, in every laugh when they remember something he did and in every tear when she is reminded of how loved he was, she said.
On Wednesday night, despite the cold, she rushed to the cemetery where he had been laid to rest right before it closed to drop off fresh flowers and make sure the decorations on his tombstone were intact. It’s part of the celebration in Mexico, where cemeteries come to life the night of Nov. 1, when hundreds of families decorate their loved one’s tombstones with thousands of marigolds, candles and their favorite foods. Sometimes there are live bands and some people paint their faces like a skull.
That is not yet a tradition in the Chicago area, perhaps because most cemeteries close before the sun goes down. At All Saints Cemetery in Des Plaines, Torres’ son’s tombstone stands out, she said.
For her, it is a sacred space where she can connect with her son. Sometimes, for his birthday or other special occasions, the family brings in a live band even though it is not allowed.
“He was a happy and humble boy,” his mother recalled.
After he died in a car accident on DuSable Lake Shore Drive near the Gold Coast early in the morning of June 17, 2021, she visited the cemetery every single day for over a year.
The pain of losing him has cut deep, she said. He was her first son.
“My first love,” she said. Somehow, the Mexican tradition has helped her to live with the pain and remember her son with love and joy, Torres added.
He died too young, “but left a huge impact in our lives,” the mother said.
His dream was to start a construction company that he would run with his father. In his memory and under his name, Torres and her husband finally registered their business recently.
It’s called CJ Torres Construction.
Celebrations for Day of the Dead have become more popular over the last few years, according to Cesáreo Moreno, chief curator and visual arts director at the National Museum of Mexican Art in Chicago. He attributes the increase to pop culture, such as movies and other shows, but also to a younger generation invested in preserving their culture and the true meaning behind it.
Every year for the past two decades, the museum has hosted Día de los Muertos Xicágo on Oct. 28 where hundreds of families from all over the city come together to celebrate the life of their late loved ones by creating and showcasing ofrendas.
Day of the Dead is a sacred holiday for many. It is an emotional one for those who are still learning to cope with a loss and also serves as a comfort for those who refuse to accept that someone is gone.
Gabriela Lopez lost one of her brothers, Roberto Jesus Lopez Jr., in September. Though she and her family had celebrated Dia de Muertos for a long time, her brother’s passing was sudden, leaving the whole family in shock, she said.
“It was too painful to create an ofrenda this year,” Gabriela Lopez said.
But some of his friends decided to participate in the event at the museum and invited his family to see the ofrenda they created to honor Roberto.
When Gabriela Lopez and her family arrived, they cried.
“It was as if he was there,” she said. There was a grill and his garden tools, his photo, of course, and even some drinks.
Right before he died, he had invited his friends, Elizabeth Fernandez, Patricia Martinez and Erika Guzman to a carne asada cookout.
It didn’t happen, so the gathering in his honor was “healing,” Elizabeth Fernandez said.
“As if nothing had changed for a moment.”
The last seven years, it has been the memory of her parents, who died a year apart, which has brought the family together, said Nelly Valdez Viramontes.
Her sibling and her get together every year to create an ofrenda for their parents and for other family members who have died.
Mourning together and in a celebratory way, “allows us to hold each other together and treasure these little moments because life is short,” Valez said.
Her parents’ spirit lives through their children, especially when they are together, she said.
