Anniversaries are tough. We feel the despondency all over again. We feel incredulous that another year has passed, and we long to stop time. To stop the world. Time is propelling us forward, and it won’t slow down. We try to etch out a new way of being, without the ones who shaped us, loved us, and inspired us. How many times do we reach for them, play their messages back, expect to greet them at our door? How many times do we reach for our phone to call, to celebrate our joys and commiserate on losses? It all reaches a crescendo once a year on the anniversary. A dear friend lost her mum-a brilliant artist- a year ago this week. There are no words which can soothe this heart wound. Platitudes don’t cut it. Rather, I promised to light candle’s, and think of her mother. I didn’t meet this lady, yet I know so much about her. How she carried herself through life. I know she bore a beautiful daughter and was instrumental in her granddaughter’s life. I regret that I never got to know her personally, and yet I feel I do. My little family lit the candles, and we stopped. The chatter of everyday life was silenced and we were still. Our pets were still. The breeze was still. The flames carried a silent prayer through the ethers. They carried profound gratitude that through this woman, we have had our lives sweetened by her offspring. The world has custody of her art for all time. Sorrow became thankfulness that she walked among us, and we breathed the same air as this lady. The flames danced as my daughter bowed her head. They danced as we remained still. Unlike our candle’s her flame is inexhaustible, and shall never be extinguished. You lived, and you lived well. xxx