A Christmas tree in Mexico carries the faces of loved ones who never came home

In Mexico, a Mother’s Decade-Long Search for Her Missing Son Symbolized in Christmas Ornaments

It’s been 10 years since Verónica Rosas last set up a Christmas tree. The overwhelming sorrow following her 16-year-old son Diego’s disappearance in 2015 has made the once-cherished tradition unbearable.

“Before he vanished in a Mexico City suburb, mother and son yearned for the winter season. We loved buying natural Christmas trees and decorating them with Diego’s favorite Mickey and Minnie Mouse figurines,” Rosas explained. “It’s been too hard, and I have not been able to set up a tree since.”

Rosas recently joined other grieving relatives at a gathering hosted by the Catholic Diocese of Ecatepec, an area near Mexico City plagued by robbery, femicide, and other violent crimes. There, families brought photographs of their missing loved ones to create memorial ornaments by pasting the images onto old CDs and cardboard circles, adorning them with glitter.

After a priest celebrated Mass and blessed their work, the ornaments were hung on a “tree of hope” inside the cathedral, where they will remain until February 2.

“We want to draw attention to the crisis that we’re living,” said Rosas, who founded an organization supporting fellow Mexicans with missing relatives. “It’s a symbolic gesture that keeps what’s happening in plain sight.”

Official statistics reveal that more than 133,000 people have disappeared in Mexico since 1952. Human trafficking, kidnapping, acts of retaliation, and forced recruitment by cartel members contribute to this ongoing tragedy. The phenomenon has affected families across Latin America for decades, forcing relatives to make life-altering choices to search for their loved ones – often because authorities fail to take action or provide answers.

“This has been a Way of the Cross,” said Marisol Rizo, who has been searching for her mother since 2012. “Thirteen years have passed, and we can’t make authorities do their jobs.”

Rizo believes her father was responsible for her mother’s disappearance, adding another layer to Mexico’s crisis of femicide, where at least 10 women or girls are killed because of their gender every day. Her father denies any involvement.

The holiday season brings particular anguish to families of the disappeared. Rizo still remembers spending days around Christmas posting flyers on streets – a common practice among relatives of missing persons in Mexico. Each poster contains contact information, along with the photo, name, distinguishing features, and date a person vanished.

“On December 24, I used to cry a lot,” Rizo recalled. “I could see happy people pouring out of shopping centers while I was posting flyers, dragging my sorrow.”

Rizo’s 17-year-old daughter joined her in crafting ornaments at the Ecatepec cathedral, though seeing photos of her grandmother stirred painful emotions. “These spheres represent a deep sadness to me. This is not the place where I would have wished to see a picture of my mom,” Rizo said.

Many relatives have faced disappointment from religious institutions that once offered comfort. Catholic mothers overwhelmed with fear sought solace at local parishes after their children disappeared, only to be rebuffed by trusted priests.

“I remember when I arrived in a church five years ago, requesting a Mass for my daughter, and I was told ‘We don’t celebrate Mass for disappeared people,'” said Jaqueline Palmeros, who recently found her child’s remains in Mexico City. “But I believe that the Church, which closed its doors to us for a long time, is an alternative path to access truth, justice, memory and repair.”

Some religious leaders are working to make amends. During a recent meeting with relatives of the disappeared, Bishop Javier Acero, representing Mexico City’s archdiocese, asked for forgiveness. “As church leaders, we recognize that at times we have not acted as we should – out of fear or out of not knowing how,” Acero acknowledged. “If we failed to receive you with the care you needed, if we did not pray as you asked us to, please forgive us.”

An ecumenical group known as “the church circle” has been providing spiritual shelter for years. Comprising nuns, an Anglican priest, and several pastors from different denominations, these faith leaders celebrate Mass in public squares before protests demanding government action. They even don gloves and rubber boots to excavate potential burial sites and regularly post flyers of missing people throughout Mexico.

Reverend Luis Alberto Sánchez, whose own brother was kidnapped and killed, has been among these advocates. “We can’t remain silent,” he said while helping families at the Ecatepec cathedral. “The voice of the disappeared, of those who have perished, needs to resound and say ‘no more.'”

For Rosas, the support from this interfaith community has been invaluable during mournful Christmases spent searching for her son. “I wish for people belonging to all faith communities to congregate and replicate our model everywhere,” she said. “In that way, all families could get this constant presence of the church and the hope that we carry within our hearts.”