Beauty in the light

I love fire.

I love the way the flames seem to dance. I love the way the colors are so distinct, yet at the same time seem to blend so easily into one. Reds, yellows, oranges, blues.... fire can be so beautiful.

I spent this past weekend at a campground with my aunts and my cousins. Sitting around the campfire on Saturday night, I found myself just staring off into the flames. Thinking about how blessed I am to have such incredible people in my family. Thinking about Emily. Thinking about how things are going to be changing so much pretty soon. Just generally getting lost in thought.

I really miss Emily. In some ways, I miss her now more than ever. I wonder if now that the numbness has started to wear off, it's really hit home that she's never coming back. And as I sat staring into those flames, I just plain missed her.

When I was in Poland, we toured the All Saints Cathedral. While we were in the sanctuary, there was a place to light little votive candles. (I'm sure there is an actual term for this, but I can't remember what it is at the moment.) There were three tiers of candles. Most were lit. The church was semi-dark, and the beauty of the candles flickering against the backdrop of that centuries-old church took my breath away. And even though I'm not Catholic, I lit one for Emily. Not because I held any beliefs that by lighting that candle it would "do something." But just out of a need to still have something of her to hold onto. Something physical to represent her. Something I could see.
I know that it's long since burned out by now. But it was there, flame flickering and light dancing for all to see. Lending it's little light to the bigger picture. Kind of symbolic for my sister's life. It doesn't matter that the candle is no longer there. What matters is that it was. Each of those lights represented something. A prayer, a person, a memory. And each person who sees those lights I think carries a bit of the person it honors with them. Not necessarily by knowing who the light shines for. But just in knowing that it's shining.

And for me, that's enough.