The
illumination that spans the cosmos and beyond the continuums, from here on
earth to there in the after-place, flickers its light against the wall and creates
a soft focus in the darkened room. A simple wick, lit in memoriam on the eve of
Yom Kippur, brings forth the remembrances: the people who formed my body and sculpted my
being, parents and grandparents decades gone, a good friend lost just this
year. Miniature Images of the departed visit as they appear to hold hands around
the halo of the Yartzeit lamp. The glow reignites the glint in their eyes,
the familiar warmth of their presence, their tender-hearted countenances. Reanimated
are the kindness and caring, the laughs and shouts. And then, after the gates
of the holy day close, the candle sputters out. The visitation over, the room
becomes dark and vacant again.
Shalom until the next candle lighting.
Marsha H.
Oct 21, 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment