Marigolds, Tattoos, and Day of the Dead

Some people remember their loved ones by looking at old photographs.

Others will reminisce over their favorite stories.

But when my grandmother, Beverly, passed away last year at one of the most pivotal times in my life, it held extra significance for me, and I wanted to do something special to remember her.

I had just quit my 14-year career to start a travel business, and was preparing for my first group trip to Mexico City for Día de los Muertos. A few days before I left, my grandmother passed away, and I was the last person to speak to her.

In those last moments that we talked over FaceTime, she asked where I was going next, and she asked if I ever considered traveling for my job. Before I had a chance to tell her my exciting news, she fell asleep and didn’t wake up again.

My grandmother loved travel more than anyone, and she would have been so proud to know that I made it into a career.

I owe my adventurous spirit to her, and I think of her often when I am exploring new countries.

That week before I headed to Mexico was incredibly stressful, trying to adjust to solo entrepreneur life, remote work, prepping for my upcoming group trip, and juggling my feelings of losing my last remaining grandparent.

I have a way of stuffing things inside, especially when I need to hold it together, so I put on a brave face and went to Mexico City to start my first group trip.

One of the highlights of this trip to Mexico City was Day of the Dead, which we’d be celebrating in a small town called Mixquic. We’d be touring a cemetery and seeing how locals celebrate the lives of their loved ones on this special holiday.

Although I grew up learning Spanish and knew about Day of the Dead, it never became truly significant to me until this trip.

On the eve of Día de los Muertos, it was also the day of my grandmother’s funeral. I had to make the impossible choice of being here to run my trip instead of back in Wisconsin with my family.

I had an incredible amount of guilt over missing her funeral, and I shed many tears that evening as we toured a cemetery and watched the locals standing over the graves over their loved ones.

This would have been impactful for anyone, but for me, standing in a cemetery on día de los muertos on the day of my grandmother’s funeral had extra meaning.

At this exact moment, I cried knowing that my grandmother was here with me, and I knew she approved of my choice to be here instead of her funeral.

During the first few days of November, people gather to pay respects and remember friends and family members who have died. Traditions include honoring the deceased by building altars in their homes called ofrendas with the favorite photos, foods and beverages of the departed, and visiting graves with these items as gifts for the deceased.

One part of Día de los Muertos that has special significance to me is the marigold flower, known as cempazúchitl in Spanish.

Prized for their bright and beautiful orange coloring and strong fragrance, marigolds are thought to attract the souls of the dead to the ofrendas. Families will often scatter marigold petals and form a path from their front door to the ofrenda within the home. In smaller towns, families might even lay a floral path from the cemetery to their front doors to lead the dead home.

Something about this tradition and the symbolism of marigolds makes me think of my grandmother and the place that Mexico City and Day of the Dead now hold in my heart forever.

This is one of my favorite parts of travel—sometimes things happen while traveling that have such an impact that you come home changed forever. That was what happened to me in Mexico City.

So when I returned to Mexico City this year, Day of the Dead had extra special significance to me, and I wanted to do something to remember my beautiful grandmother and our shared love for travel.

One of my favorite movies is Coco, which depicts how Mexican culture celebrates Day of the Dead. In the movie, a little boy named Miguel finds himself in the Land of the Dead and seeks the help of his deceased great-great-grandfather to return him to his family among the living.

Miguel’s great grandmother, Coco, plays a prominent role in the movie, and they depict her growing from a little girl into an elderly woman with a fading memory. One of the most popular songs of the movie is called Remember Me (or recuérdame in Spanish), which symbolizes the tradition of Día de los Muertos and the importance of not forgetting loved ones who have passed.

A recent thing I started doing on my group trips is coordinating a tattoo session for anyone who wants to remember their trip with a tattoo.

I got my first tattoo just six weeks ago in Colombia, and although I don’t want to get many more, I knew immediately that I wanted to get another one here in Mexico City to remember my grandmother.

So I searched for design inspiration online and went to a local tattoo shop yesterday with six of my friends who wanted to join.

The design I chose, a marigold with the words “recuérdame” in the font of my travel business, represents the importance of Día de los Muertos and never forgetting those who’ve left this earth before us.

And most importantly, it represents the love I have for my grandmother and our shared belief in living in the moment and making the most of the time we have.

A few months ago, I saw a local woman who does reiki, and as she was doing energy work and holding her hands over my earthly body, she told me she felt the presence of an older female. She asked me about my grandmothers and said that she felt the presence of an elderly woman watching over me.

I told her the story of my grandmother and cried as I shared the guilt I still harnessed a year later for missing her funeral. She said my grandmother knows I made the right choice, and that souls can be in more than one place at a time.

She was both in that cemetery with me that night in Mexico City on Día de los Muertos and at home with my family in Wisconsin at her funeral.

Whether it be true or not, it gave me immense comfort and allowed me to let go and celebrate my grandmother’s life in the only way that resonates with me—through travel.