Thousands celebrate, mourn lost loved ones during All Souls Procession in Tucson
José Ignacio Castañeda Perez
Photographs of Donita Montgomery’s father dripped from the metal ribs of her bare umbrella Sunday afternoon.
Smiling faces of loved ones adorned the ends of Montgomery’s umbrella entwined with string lights as she walked among thousands down North Grande Avenue south of Speedway Boulevard toward Mercado San Agustin. Purple rhinestones adorned her eyes beneath a flower crown as skull makeup embellished her face.
Montgomery, a Tucson native, began participating in the All Souls Procession to memorialize her father after his death in 1994.
Since then, friends and family have asked Montgomery to carry pictures of their loved ones to honor them during the event. Every year, Montgomery receives 10-15 more pictures to include.
“I've got daughters, I've got mothers, I've got sisters, I've got best friends. Everybody is on here,” Montgomery said. “I'm just very honored and blessed that my friends and family allow me to walk with their pictures on here.”
Elaborately painted faces peppered the crowd as photos of loved ones floated above the thousands of marchers during the 33rd annual All Souls Procession in Tucson’s west side. The steady thumping of a drum melded with salsa music and Mexican corridos as a man plucked at a banjo on the sidewalk nearby.
The 2-mile-long procession, organized by the nonprofit Many Mouths One Stomach, represents an opportunity for people to remember their late loved ones or advocate for a cause close to them. Marchers carrying large wooden crosses weaved through the teeming crowd while gun violence survivors carried a display of paper angels, representing each of the victims in the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School mass shooting.
During the procession, marchers placed written notes, prayers, remembrances and messages for their loved ones inside a large steel vessel, known as the Urn. During the final ceremony, the contents of the Urn are burned in a communal ceremony meant to channel grief and joy.
The first procession took place in 1990 as a way for Tucson artists and creatives to honor the dead. Local artist Susan Johnson created a ceremonial performance piece that year to memorialize her father’s death, inciting the annual event.
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As the procession grew over the years, people from various communities across Arizona began to blend their own traditions with the event.
While the procession is held around the time of the Indigenous Mexican holiday of Día de los Muertos, it has no direct ties to it. Themes and traditions related to Día de los Muertos, however, have now become common for marchers attending the annual event, with numerous attendees painting their faces in skull makeup and carrying the traditional, bright orange cempasúchil flowers as they walked.
A celebration of lost loved ones
Many marchers grieved the loss of their friends and family while also celebrating their lives.
Palo Santo incense smoke trailed behind the altar that Jaime Arrieta helped build for his best friend of 46 years, Dr. Justin Schultz Cetas. Arrieta helped carry the mobile altar alongside Cetas’ children and family.
“He was a very monumental person in the community but he was just a friend to me,” Arrieta said.
Cetas, chair of the Department of Neurosurgery at the University of Arizona College of Medicine, passed away in a motorcycle accident in July. Cetas’ family and friends constructed the intricate altar and walked in the procession to honor the man they loved.
A golden bag of Haribo gummy bears stood atop the altar next to Cetas’ dissertation and a pouch of tobacco for hand-rolled cigarettes, which he had always promised to quit.
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Cetas loved to fish and was a voracious knitter, his children said. Hats and scarves that he had knitted for people stood on his altar Sunday night.
“Everything on this altar kind of represents his passing through life,” Arrieta said. “We made this in honor of him and to celebrate his life and to celebrate him.”
Arrieta met Cetas when he was five years old and had just moved into his house in Tucson. Cetas came to his house, noticed the now-empty moving boxes and asked Arrieta if he wanted to build a fort.
The rest was history.
Near Arrieta, the Urn was arriving at the stage where the final procession ceremony would be held. Thousands of people gathered in front of the stage as the procession came to a close. The Urn was lifted high into the night sky and set ablaze.
As thick flames engulfed the Urn, billows of smoke drifted away, carrying the memories of remembered loved ones into the night.
Have a news tip or story idea about the border and its communities? Contact the reporter at jcastaneda1@arizonarepublic.com or connect with him on Twitter @joseicastaneda.