MEXICO CITY – It is midnight on the outskirts of Mexico City, and the Pantheon of San Gregorio is not only alive, it is thriving.

The roar of mariachis echoes over families who adorn the graves of their lost loved ones with rows of candles, orange cempasúchil flowers and their favorite treats ranging from pan de muerto to bottles of Coca-Cola.

This time, every year, Mexico erupts in celebrations during the Day of the Dead. Families gather in cemeteries across the country on November 1 to reconnect with their dead, just as their ancestors have done for centuries.

For many others living in small communities like this, it’s also about preserving the heart of their traditions, as celebrations in larger urban centers are increasingly impacted by mass tourism.

“We keep our tradition, part of our heritage that my mother instilled in me,” said Antonio Meléndez, 58. “We can’t let this go to waste.”

Meléndez was among a crowd of people gathered at the cemetery, nestled in the maze of canals and brick buildings of Xochimilco, a neighborhood in southern Mexico City that continues traditions long lost in other parts of the country.

He gathered with his two daughters around his mother’s grave, marked by orange flower petals spread in the shape of a cross and bouquets of pink flowers, his mother’s favorite color.

Meléndez said she died last year and the loss was still fresh, so he tried to remember her by continuing the same rituals he saw her perform growing up, this time with her daughters . He began preparing for the celebration four days before, making tamales from scratch and building a small altar for her in their home.

The Day of the Dead dates back centuries to ancient indigenous civilizations, who held celebrations when someone died to guide them to the next life, and arrange food on the altars to feed them during their travels, according to the Mexican government.

“In this celebration of the Day of the Dead, death represents not an absence but a living presence; death is a symbol of life which materializes in the offered altar,” he writes.

When Spanish colonizers arrived and began imposing Catholicism on indigenous communities, they mixed indigenous traditions with Catholic holidays. The celebrations of the dead were then synchronized with All Saints’ Day, November 1, ending on November 2.

During the celebrations start to gain momentum At the end of October, Mexican tradition dictates that on this night, their deceased are closest to the living world and we hope to keep them company. Although every family celebrates the holiday in different ways.

At the Pantheon of San Gregorio, elderly women carry enormous bouquets of orange blossoms, the emblematic flower of death. Some families sob in each other’s arms. Others sit alone next to the graves of their loved ones, in silence. Many others drink mezcal and tell stories of their family members.

Gathered with her daughter and granddaughter, Beatriz Chávez, 60, kneels before the graves of her son, nephew and father, quietly lighting candles.

“It’s like being with them for another year, feeling like even though they don’t see them, we feel closer to them,” Chávez said, noting that she had planned to sleep in the cemetery, as she did every time. a year since her father died when she was 10 years old.

Over the years, this tradition has been the focus of the Disney film Coco. A Day of the Dead parade in Mexico City was also featured in a James Bond film, although no such parade exists in real life. Later annual celebrations adopted the idea of ​​the parade of the film.

Today, people from all over the world have flocked to the Latin American nation, eager to experience the rich tradition for themselves.

But once-quaint celebrations in Day of the Dead hubs like Mexico City, Oaxaca and Michoacan have begun to overflow with tourists, who take photos of the mourners. In recent years, many Mexicans have also begun to mix the celebration with Halloween and other new traditions like the James Bond parade have emerged.

Some, like Meléndez, experience tingling when moving.

“Here, Halloween isn’t ours, it’s Day of the Dead,” he said. “It’s sad because it’s getting distorted. We lose the essence of who we are. It’s part of us, our roots.

For Meléndez, that adds an extra level of importance to the celebration at their small cemetery, which he and others say has remained true to centuries-old traditions.

This coincides with a broader debate unfolding across Mexico, amid an influx of American “expats” and tourists. As more people move or travel to Mexico City, rents have become so high that many Mexicans have been pushed out of the areas in which they have lived much of their lives, leaving frustration to simmer in a large part of the city.

Those who walk the graves and sell flowers and food in the streets see the changes less as a loss of tradition and more as an evolution – a way for younger generations to continue to pass on their heritage in their own way and to keep it alive. share with them. new audiences.

This was the case for the grieving Chávez, who celebrated with his daughter and granddaughter. They used the lights from their iPhones to help her grandmother arrange flowers.

“It’s beautiful because we’re talking about other places that are interested in our culture. And I think it is important to show all our love for our dead and to celebrate death – it is important that they know our roots, our traditions, from generation to generation,” said his daughter, Ana Laura Anell Chávez , 36 years old.