ÃÛÌÒµ¼º½

‘Joy and grief are so intertwined. You can be crying one minute and laughing the next’

“Don’t forget to light the candle.” My mother’s words echo in my mind each year as I put the final touches on my ofrenda, an altar curated to honor the lives of our loved ones on Día de los Muertos. When I was growing up, my mother kept an ofrenda in the house year-round, a constant reminder of our family’s history. Now, when I build my own altars, I remember everything she taught me. 

While designing the ofrenda for last year’s Camino de los Muertos event, I laid a gold velvet tablecloth over a table, and decorated it with candles, framed photos, vases, keepsakes, fruit, and colorful tissue flowers meant to mimic cempasúchiles (the Aztec name for Marigolds believed to attract spirits). I added pan de muerto, the round-shaped sweet bread that symbolizes the cycle of life, alongside portraits I painted of my grandfather and grandmother, who both passed away in the last eight years. A prickly pear and a sombrero vaquero sat next to my abuelo, while rosaries and incense lay beside my abuela— each item a reflection of their favorite things in life. They were the pillars of my family, and their sacrifices laid the foundation for everything I’ve become. Once the ofrenda felt complete, I said a short prayer, lit the candles and incense, and turned my attention to the interactive part of the altar: the butterfly tree. 

Every year, I include this feature as part of my ofrenda at Camino de los Muertos. Since butterflies symbolize transformation and are often seen as the returning spirits of our ancestors, I invite visitors to write the names of their loved ones on paper monarch butterflies and pin them to the tree’s branches. It’s always an emotional experience! We cry, hug, and laugh as we heal together, enjoying delicious food while a mariachi band plays lamentos, songs of mourning. 

Joy and grief are so intertwined. You can be crying one minute and laughing the next. When we honor someone, we’re also celebrating who they were, what they gave us, and the memories we shared. Even though we may come from different backgrounds, everyone understands what it means to miss someone. And I think that’s why Día de los Muertos is so powerful. It allows both things to exist at once. For me, art has always been part of the healing process. Whether I’m painting portraits of loved ones, making ofrendas, or even cooking with friends— it’s all art, it’s all creation. It’s a way to keep memories alive.

Words by Yesenia Magdaleno-Solis ’20, MBA ’26, community engagement manager with the ÃÛÌÒµ¼º½ Alumni Association.