Ofrenda, much more than an altar
An ofrenda is more than an altar—it is a sacred space within the home where memory and spirit meet. Rooted in Mexican tradition, it is a place to honor loved ones who have crossed over, adorned with offerings that speak across the veil: flowers, food, light, and prayer.
My ofrenda is not seasonal. It does not come down when Día de los Muertos ends. It stays with me all year long, a quiet reminder of those I have loved and lost too soon. On it rests precious photographs and keepsakes of my father, grandparents, brothers, and now my mother—faces that once surrounded me in this world and now guide me from beyond. Each morning as I prepare for the day, I greet my father. Though I can no longer hear his voice, I still carry his guidance, knowing what he would say as I move through whatever the day holds.
For Día de los Muertos, when the veil between worlds is said to be thinnest, I prepare the altar with the traditional gifts of welcome: marigolds to light the path of spirits, pan de muerto to nourish, water to quench thirst, and salt for purification. These offerings are humble, yet they are bridges—gestures of love sent into the unseen.
And then, like a child on Christmas Eve, I wait. On November 1, the children return first with their joy and playful banter, and on November 2, the adults follow. I keep my altar lit so that on these days I may reunite with my daughter and brothers who never lived to see adulthood. I wait to feel the presence of my father near me once again in the stillness of my home, and this year, to welcome my mother. Not as she was at the end—tired and ill—but as she came to me the morning she died this summer: young, radiant, and brimming with the possibilities of a life still unfolding.
I have come to understand that people are not ours to keep. They are gifts to be cherished, experienced, and loved while they are here. Though I have lost many, what I hold close now is the truth that I have been surrounded by so many wonderful souls. That perspective is my solace, and it has made all the difference.
For me, this year the Corazón Collection celebrates this circle of remembrance and joy. Each scent, each handcrafted piece, is an offering—born of memory, rooted in childhood, and an invitation to pause, to honor, and to hold close the magic of those who came before us.
How to Build Your Own Ofrenda
An ofrenda is a personal altar created to honor and welcome loved ones who have passed. Each element carries meaning, creating a bridge between worlds. Here’s how you can build your own:
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Choose a Sacred Space
Find a small table, shelf, or corner in your home where you can create your altar. Cover it with a cloth—often white or vibrant—and prepare it as a place of remembrance. -
Add Photos & Mementos
Place pictures of your loved ones at the center. You may also include treasured belongings or objects that remind you of them. - Include the Four Elements
- Earth: Place pan de muerto or your loved one’s favorite foods.
- Water: A glass of water to quench the thirst of returning souls.
- Fire: Candles to light the way and guide spirits home.
- Air: Papel picado, the delicate cut-paper banners, representing the fragility of life.
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Flowers of Remembrance
Marigolds (cempasúchil) are traditional, their golden color and fragrance said to guide spirits back to us. Scatter petals or create paths leading to your altar. -
Offerings of Love
Add personal touches—music, sweets, toys for children, or anything your loved ones cherished in life. These details make your ofrenda uniquely yours. -
Welcome the Spirits
On November 1, honor children who have passed (Día de los Angelitos). On November 2, welcome the adults (Día de los Difuntos). Keep candles lit, share stories, and remember with joy. (Always make sure to tend to any open flames).
Your ofrenda does not need to be elaborate—it only needs to be sincere. Each piece you place is a gesture of love, an invitation for memory, and a celebration of lives that continue to shape your own.