Día de los Muertos is coming up this Sunday, November 1st and Monday, November 2nd, and I am getting ready to celebrate! 

Why?

Because according to Mexican tradition AND the animated Disney film Coco, “Día de los Muertos is the one night of the year our ancestors can come visit us!”

I know this may sound silly to some people, but here’s the deal:

Even if you haven’t lost a loved one in this lifetime with whom you would do anything to connect, we all have ancestors. And whether we’ve had the pleasure of knowing them or not, they are still a part of our family and impacting our lives.

Think about it.

Our ancestors don’t just innocently pass down their genes. They also bless us with their talents and interests. They influence our belief systems and economic circumstances (for better or worse). Some even burden us with their challenges and traumas (don’t get me started on the cycle of loss that sadly transferred from my great-great-grandparents to me…).

Whatever our respective family dynamics may be, getting to know our ancestors is one of the most powerful ways to learn more about ourselves as well.

Of course, I didn’t know any of this until after Tommy passed away. Only then did I start contemplating whether the human spirit really lives on. Desperate for proof, I questioned whether it was possible for my spirit to keep growing and learning with Tommy’s despite being in different worlds. If it was, then I wondered if a regular person like me could learn how to do so.

As I pondered these kinds of mystical questions, I learned from a friend that the animated film Coco had been one of Tommy’s favorite movies.

Having not yet seen Coco at that time, I grabbed a box of Kleenex, hunkered down on my couch, and watched the film all by myself.

For nearly two hours, I watched the twelve-year-old boy in the movie named Miguel sing and play guitar like Tommy used to do, and I immediately understood why the story had captured my son’s heart. When Miguel declared that “Nothing’s more important than family,” the film immediately captured mine too.

As I watched Miguel learn about his ancestors and develop a relationship with them, my imagination grew alongside his and I became increasingly curious about the notion of an afterlife.

What if the veil between our worlds really is the thinnest on Día de los Muertos? I wondered.

What if Tommy and the rest of my ancestors are waiting to celebrate, just like Miguel’s did in the film?

The possibilities, no matter how small, lifted my grieving spirit and inspired me to host my first-ever Día de los Muertos gathering at my home later that year.

“Let’s order Mexican food,” one girlfriend suggested.

“I’ll make the margaritas,” offered another.

Together, we made a simple altar with candles, fresh flowers, and photographs of our ancestors and loved ones gone too soon. Some of us layered in sweets and beverages that we knew our deceased family members had loved. Others contributed trinkets representing their ancestors’ talents, favorite hobbies, and prized possessions.

As the rest of my neighborhood invested in Halloween and the spookiness of death, five of my friends and I connected with our ancestors and celebrated the eternal nature of life.

It wasn’t long into the evening when the lights throughout my house began to flicker and I sensed my ancestors buzzing all around me. In fact, the following day, when I looked back at photos and videos I had taken, my heart fluttered with delight as I noticed multiple small globes of blue light dancing in them.

Are those balls of light spirits? I wondered.

What else could they be?

Over the past eight years, my Día de los Muertos gathering has taken many forms. Some years I’ve gone big, inviting dozens of friends who have lost loved ones (human and animal!) and who’ve felt inspired to dedicate an evening to them. Other years, I’ve dialed it back and kept the festivities super small. Either way, the holiday just keeps getting better.

So does my Coco story!

About a year after that first Día de los Muertos party, I had an incredible reading on the phone with a medium.

At some point in the reading, the medium asked me, “What’s up with the dog next door?”

“What do you mean?” I responded.

“Your son keeps talking about the dog next door. Did your neighbors get a new dog or something?”

“Yes,” I said. “A few weeks ago.”

“Why would your son be talking about your neighbor’s dog? Is there something special about it?”

I thought I knew where he was heading but waited to see.

“What’s the dog’s name? Something about the name is making your son smile.”

“Yes!” I responded enthusiastically. “The dog’s name is Coco, and that was one of my son’s favorite movies.”

You can’t make this stuff up. 

While scientists don’t measure consciousness (yet!) and I don’t have physical proof that the human spirit lives on (although I can share photographs with the blue globes of light if you want to see them), I can tell you there is nothing to lose by celebrating Día de los Muertos—and so much to gain.

As the film Coco has enlightened me: “If there’s no one left in the living world to remember you, you disappear from the world. We have the power to change that.”

So, if it speaks to you this November 1st or 2nd, light a candle, put up some photos of your ancestors and loved ones lost, make a toast to them, and feel your spirit lift as you celebrate their lives.

Even if you don’t believe in the spiritual possibilities of the holiday like I do, you just might be starting a family tradition that ensures your family line never forgets you either.

P.S. After celebrating Día de los Muertos a couple years ago, my ancestors visited me in a dream in the middle of the night to thank me. I know how it sounds… and I can still hardly believe it myself. You can read this short article I wrote about it at the time and decide for yourself: “The Grateful Dead.” This dream was so real that I can still visualize every second of it and recount every word.