Shawn Mendes Imagines

Día de los Muertos/Angelitos

hello everyone! so a few days ago i decided i wanted to write a halloween imagine. however, i did that last year.. so i got to thinking.

i know i have lots of latina/o readers that celebrate Day of the Dead, which i have been learning about & researching for the past few years in & outside of school. i've always found it really interesting, so i decided why not show a lil diversity & write about another culture?

i'm sorry if this offends you for whatever reason. i don't know all of the inside facts. i just thought it might be a cool idea to write about something besides halloween this year.

hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think! shoutout to my mexican babes!! ❤️

***

As the brightness outside the shoulder-length window grew brighter, you could feel your breathing level escalate beneath your skin, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest.

You had spent all of October preparing for today. Every year, you feel the apprehensive nerves approach as autumn falls, anticipating the long-awaited visit.

You even managed to get your husband, Shawn, to crack a grin when you returned home from el supermercado with gatherings and decorations to build the alter for her-- despite his separate beliefs.

Shawn was always saddened by the death of your baby girl, lying awake and reminiscing the times that your family shared in her short time on earth.

But you told him that he must learn to embrace death, to accept that she is not truly gone. That no one who has passed ever really is.

"So long as you let them know they are welcome back, they will come. And they will be peaceful. It will be like they never left," you had explained to him last month, leaning over the edge of the counter top with shopping bags clasped between your fingers.

"I have been trying," he had told you with lighthearted eyes, assisting you as you unloaded the sugar skull ingredients. "It's all so new for me."

"Entiendo," you responded, placing a hand over your chest before taking more items out of the bags.

After weeks of preparing, you couldn't wait to see the turnout for the ofrenda of your lost baby girl, Emilia.

Shawn made a list of all of her favorite foods and beverages, smiling as he remembered the way she used to shove all of her froot loops into her mouth in one bite, and how she would pick apart her grilled cheese sandwiches, only biting off the cheese and leaving the toast alone.

Around noon, you headed out the door to begin placing the ofrenda. You had planned to get it all put together before you and Shawn went to have a picnic by her graveside, which you had cleaned up last night on All Hallow's Eve.

On your front porch, you began by setting up a small wooden table, draping a lacy white mantel over the smooth surface and planting the different sized sugar skulls on top.

Shawn came outside then, taking in the brisk autumn air that always seemed to sweep across this less-populated area of Guadalajara. Clad in his grey sweatpants and black t-shirt, he gives you a small smile as he held up four picture frames, two in each strong, pale hand.

"You got them framed!" you exclaim, clapping your hands together and outstretching your arms to see how they looked.

The first picture was a single portrait of Emilia, crouched down in the grass of your backyard, smiling and blowing on the thin petals of dandelion she had picked. It was the most recent photo of Emilia in which she still looked like herself, before her illness took her familiar appearance.