Honoring our Ancestors

There’s a moment every autumn when the air changes when the wind carries a whisper that feels ancient and familiar. The Celts believed this time of year marked the thinning of the veil, when the worlds of the living and the dead draw close enough to touch. It wasn’t something to fear, but a sacred invitation to listen, remember, and honor.

As the veil thins, our ancestors draw near.

Their presence moves like candlelight it’s soft but unmistakable. They touch our hearts through memory, scent, and intuition. This season reminds us that they have never truly left; they walk beside us in ways both mysterious and tender.

Across the world, many traditions recognize this season as sacred. It’s a time to remember that life and death are not opposites, but partners in the great cycle of being. In Mexico, families celebrate Día de los Muertos, lighting candles, setting out marigolds, and preparing sweet bread to welcome their beloved dead home. In Japan, the Obon Festival honors ancestors with floating lanterns and dances of remembrance. In many African and Indigenous lineages, the ancestors are called upon daily,not only to be remembered, but to be consulted, respected, and thanked. Among many Native American peoples, the ancestors are honored through ceremony, drumming, and storytelling, where gratitude is offered not only to those who came before, but to the spirits of the land, the elements, and the animal nations that continue to sustain life. Each culture, in its own way, affirms the same truth: that love and lineage transcend the boundaries of time and form.

Much of my ancestry is of Celtic descent. For the Celts, this season is known as Samhain (pronounced Sow-en) the great turning of the year. It marked the end of the harvest and the beginning of the spiritual new year. Fires blazed on the hills of Ireland and Scotland, illuminating the threshold between worlds. Communities gathered around those flames to feast, dance, and tell stories, honoring both the abundance of the harvest and the mystery of life beyond the veil. Tables overflowed with grains, apples, root vegetables, and mead, all offered in gratitude to the earth and to the spirits who helped the crops grow. It was a time of laughter and reverence, of music echoing through the dark while the bonfire’s sparks rose like prayers to the stars. People left offerings of food and milk at their doorsteps for wandering spirits and placed candles in windows to guide their loved ones home.

Samhain is a threshold festival, the hinge between the seen and unseen, life and afterlife. It reminds us that death is part of life’s rhythm, and that endings are fertile ground for new beginnings. In modern times, many of us honor Samhain not only by remembering those who have passed, but by releasing what no longer serves old stories, burdens, or patterns ready to return to the earth for transformation.

Food has always been one of the simplest, most loving ways to bridge the realms. Some prepare their ancestors’ favorite dishes, setting a place at the table or holding a “dumb supper” which is a silent meal shared in reverence with the unseen guests who walk beside us. The roots of this tradition stretch back centuries, to the old Celtic lands of Scotland, Ireland, and northern England, where families gathered on Samhain night, the turning of the year, to honor and feed the spirits of their dead. The word “dumb” means silent, and the meal was held in complete quiet so that the living could sense and listen for the presence of those who had crossed the veil.

In those early suppers, a chair was often left empty for the beloved dead, their favorite foods laid out before them, candles burning to light the way home. In some folk traditions, especially later in Victorian England and Appalachia, the meal was even eaten backwards the courses reversed or food served in reverse order, symbolizing the crossing between the worlds of the living and the spirit.

Today, the Dumb Supper has become a sacred act of remembrance and communion. In that silence, presence itself becomes sacred a language beyond words, where love and gratitude move freely between realms. Each bite, each flicker of candlelight, becomes a quiet offering that says: You are still part of us. We remember. We are listening.

For me, it’s my grandmother’s baked macaroni and cheese and her apple pie that carry that lineage of love. When I make them, the kitchen fills with her energy which is warm, nurturing, and steady. My grandfather’s homemade spaghetti, with noodles and sauce made completely from scratch, still lives in my memory too. The smell of tomatoes simmering, my grandfather busy making sure his sauce was just right, as we played cards at the table. Cooking these dishes brings a deep sense of connection, as if my grandparents are right there beside me, smiling. It’s my way of saying, I remember you. I still carry you in my heart everyday.

My grandmother is also one of my closest guides in Spirit. She loves the work I do and often appears in mediumship circles, especially when someone is learning to open to Spirit for the first time. Her presence is unmistakable: warm, kind, and light. She’s come through not only for me, but for many of my close friends, offering comfort and guidance when it’s needed most. She’s taught me that the bond between the living and the Spirit world doesn’t end, it deepens.

The more we tune in and listen, the stronger these connections become. And sometimes, Spirit brings healing through the very souls we struggled with in life. There are moments when a loved one who was difficult in this world returns in love, seeking to repair what was once broken. Through that, we learn that it’s possible to have a more peaceful, loving relationship with them now than we ever did before. Spirit teaches that love doesn’t die, it transforms.

To honor our ancestors is to remember that we are never alone.

To light a candle is to say, I see you.

To speak their names is to open the doorway between worlds.

To share a meal in silence is to say, you are still part of us.

This season, may we honor those who walked before us and those who walk beside us in Spirit.

As the veil thins, may we feel them drawing near whispering, blessing, reminding us that we are never separate from love.