Short Story: Day Of The Dead

Hello beloveds,

This is a short story that I recently read that originated in Mexico and tells the tale of a young love, loss, and the eventual celebration of life and death, which we now know today as the Day Of The Dead or to give it its correct name, El Dia De Los Muertos.

This story is passed down through the generations, and one that speaks to living our lives and embracing death as a part of the whole journey of being human. A wise and potent story.

I hope you enjoy this reading.

Take care my dears,

From my heart to yours.

Content Warning: This practice may include references to death, dying, and the departed.

Transcript

Hello beloveds and welcome.

Today I would like to share with you a story that originated in Mexico in relation to the festival the Day of the Dead which I'm sure you know is a day where everyone celebrates and honors the loved ones that are no longer in their physical bodies.

I came across this story recently and thought it both beautiful and poignant and would like to share it with you today.

A long,

Long time ago in what is now called the Chiapas region of Mexico a young man and woman were deeply in love.

They enjoyed each other's company and planned to be married.

One day they were walking up the mountains in the rainforest.

They were laughing and playing along the edge of a waterfall when suddenly he lost his footing,

Fell into the water and was swept over the waterfall and plunged to his death.

The woman watched all of this in horror and she was filled with grief over the loss of her beloved.

She blamed herself for not being able to help him.

Once a year she would make a pilgrimage up to the mountains She would make a pilgrimage up to the mountain to honor the death of her beloved.

She visited the spot where he had died and set up a small altar upon which she placed flowers.

Her trip became so regular that other villagers would line up and watch her parade by.

After many years on the anniversary of his death the woman began to make her customary pilgrimage but this time when she reached the top there was a great shaman sitting next to the waterfall.

The shaman said to her,

It is wonderful to honor the dead but who is it that you are honoring?

The young woman was confused.

The shaman continued,

If you want to honor the dead you honor the wrong person.

Look in the mirror,

It is you who are dead.

It is you who are dead.

You aren't allowing yourself to go on with your life.

Anyone who lives chained to the past lives in fear and grief.

Regret isn't living,

It is dying.

The young woman was reflecting on his words when suddenly a bright orb of light appeared over the shaman's head and the young woman knew it was the spirit of her beloved.

Her beloved's voice spoke from the orb.

I am with you everywhere,

All the time.

Do you understand?

I am alive.

But what about you?

Are you dead?

Or alive?

This experience changed the woman and she felt free for the first time in many years.

She went back to tell the people of her village about what she saw and experienced but they did not understand.

She tried to tell them that her beloved was alive and it was she who had been dead but no one heard.

She told them that she would stop making her pilgrimage to honor the dead.

But the villagers decided that they would make the pilgrimage instead and would have a great parade and party to celebrate the dead.