Britons often find it difficult to talk about death, although it is an essential part of human existence. My beautiful daughter passed away a year ago this week. Arriving in Mexico during the annual Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead) festival—just a day after what would have been her 32nd birthday—felt surreal. Across the country, decorations were being put up to celebrate this renowned event.
Windows were adorned with orange marigolds, doors decorated with colorful paper cut into intricate patterns, and markets sold sugar skulls and skeletons everywhere. Despite my grief weighing heavily on me and waves of sadness hitting unexpectedly, I felt anxious about returning to Mexico at this time for two concerts with Africa Express, the music collective I co-founded. Touring last year's album, created with remarkable local artists, had lifted my spirits earlier in the summer.
Now, I appreciate being here. These festivities, which have roots in mystical Aztec traditions, provide reserved Brits with a meaningful perspective on death. In Britain, death is almost taboo amid our isolated society, despite its inevitability and the Victorian era’s morbid fascination with mortality. Today, most people’s lives end hidden away in care homes, hospitals, or hospices, allowing many to live decades without encountering a corpse, unlike in many other parts of the world.
"Given my grief, which sits heavy on my soul and erupts in waves of sadness at unexpected times, I felt nervous returning to Mexico at such a time for two concerts with Africa Express, the collaborative music collective that I co-founded."
"These festivities that evolved from mystical Aztec traditions offer buttoned-up Brits a valuable lesson about death."
This Mexican tradition encourages embracing death as a natural part of life rather than fearing or avoiding it.
The Day of the Dead helped me find comfort by celebrating memory and life amid profound loss—offering a lesson in living fully through grief.
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