Grief, for me, is not something that passes but something learned to be lived with—an ever-present companion. The death of my mother taught me this tragic lesson. I learned that life is precious and that we must cherish our loved ones while they are still here. One of the tragedies of life is our own imperfection. People grow anxious, depressed, angry, etc., which all obfuscate the ability to simply enjoy life. Then, people grow burdened with regret, fueling this vicious cycle further. Death forces us to confront the truth that time is never guaranteed, and yet, we often live as if it is. It is only by consistently engaging with death that we can rise above this pettiness. Death positivity and spiritual traditions like Día de los Muertos offer spaces where grief is not hidden away but embraced, where the dead are honored rather than forgotten. It is only by engaging with the reality of death that we grow as people, and it is only through practicing death rituals that we truly learn the most important lesson of all. To let go—not in the sense of forgetting, but in the sense of releasing regret, embracing love, and accepting that life, in all its imperfections, is meant to be lived.

Western attitudes toward grief often attempt to medicalize mourning, treating it as a condition that should be resolved rather than a lifelong process. During our 2/11 class session, we learned of the clinical Western view on grief and how it ties into the Western study of psychology. Emotional states are universal but manifest in a diversity of ways that Western psychology often fails to encapsulate. The Western view sees the grieving process through a clinical lens—a one-size-fits-all approach that labels those still grieving with a disorder if their grieving is seen as prolonged. This rigid framework contrasts with Mexican traditions, which integrate grief into daily life rather than isolating it as a temporary emotional state. As Caitlyn Doughty notes, “Attempts were made over the ensuing centuries to eradicate the practices, which were above all, horrifying to the illustrious elite, who sought to expel death from social life.’”  Western psychology reflects this same aversion to death, pushing the bereaved toward a statically defined sense of closure, rather than allowing us to maintain connections with their loved ones in culturally significant. Día de los Muertos contrasts with our Western ideology. Día de los Muertos ensures that grief is acknowledged, honored, and continuously engaged with, rather than being dismissed as a phase that must come to an end.

Día de los Muertos is a culturally acceptable structure for people to continue engaging with grief, reinforcing that mourning does not need to be an isolated experience. Western culture views death as a state of permanence, a rupture between the world of the living and the world of the dead. This is why death is so culturally feared in Western society. Día de los Muertos invites the dead back into the world of the living, ensuring they remain an active part of family and community life. This is also why in Mexican culture; death is not so culturally feared. The practice of building altars, lighting candles, and preparing offerings of favorite foods transforms grief into a celebration of life. It acknowledges that loss does not mean forgetting but rather finding ways to carry the presence of loved ones forward. One of the problems of Western society is that it often strips grief of its communal and ritualistic aspects. This is what leaves individuals to process their pain in isolation. Those who continue to grieve beyond an accepted time frame are often met with discomfort, judgment, and/or clinical labels. It is as if mourning should have an expiration date. Día de los Muertos demonstrates that remembrance and grieving can be lifelong processes. Engaging with grief can be healing rather than pathological. Normalizing the ongoing presence of the dead in daily life fosters a relationship with loss that is neither repressed nor feared but embraced as part of what it means to love and to live.

The Torajan people of Indonesia also harbor a vastly different relationship with the dead when compared to Western perspectives. “In Toraja, during the period of time between death and the funeral, the body is kept in the home. That might not sound particularly shocking, until I tell you that period can last from several months to several years” (Doughty 2017). This practice reflects a belief that death is not an immediate severance, but a gradual transition. Families continue to care for the deceased, speaking to them, dressing them, and treating them as part of daily life. While my experience was much briefer, I relate to this idea in that seeing my mother’s body helped me understand that death is not an abrupt moment, but a process. It is something we must engage with to fully accept.

The Western impulse to look away, to rush through grief, to treat death as something to be quickly handled and moved past, denies people the opportunity for this kind of understanding. Having seen my childhood dog’s dead body and gaining a raw sense of closure from the experience, I knew that it was also important to see my mom one last time as well. Even though it was indescribable. I knew I might have forever regretted not seeing her one last time. It forced me to acknowledge what happened, rather than letting me exist in a state of denial. It is harder to let go of someone when all you are left with are the memories. The physical reality of her body made her death something I could begin to process, rather than something my mind could avoid. While we in Western society don’t share the tradition of keeping the dead in the home, I recognize the value of this tradition. That mourning is not a moment, but a journey, and that death should be faced, not avoided. Only through facing death can we truly begin the process of letting go—not forgetting, but accepting, remembering, and finding peace.

Grief is not something to be resolved, nor is death something to be feared—it is something to be acknowledged, engaged with, and honored. Western culture pathologizes grieving if it takes too long, rushing the grieving process, deepening the pain of loss. Other cultural traditions around the world Día de los Muertos and the Torajan practices of keeping the dead close, are reminders that grieving is not meant to be hidden away. Grief and mourning can be woven into the fabric of life itself. Through these cultural perspectives, I have come to understand that letting go is not about severing ties to the past but about embracing death as an inevitable part of love and existence. Seeing my mother’s body, though painful, allowed me to face her death rather than live in denial, much like how other cultures openly engage with the presence of their lost loved ones. After learning from these diverse cultures, I am more able to create my own ways of remembrance. Rituals that honor grief for the lifelong journey that it is, rather than as a burden to be forever carried in silence. Death is something we must all walk with, not against. With love, memory, and the understanding that even in absence, those we have lost continue to shape us.

References

Akdeniz, M., Yardımcı, B., & Kavukcu, E. (2021, March 12). Ethical considerations at the end-

of-life care. SAGE open medicine. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7958189/#:~:text=There%20is%20much%20common%20ground,and%20an%20honorable%20death%20process.  

Doughty, Caitlin. 2017. MEXICO. From here to eternity: Traveling the world to find the

good death. W.W. Norton & Co.

Doughty, Caitlin. 2017. INDONESIA. From here to eternity: Traveling the world to find

the good death. W.W. Norton & Co.