Blue Candle
My grandmother on my Mom's side, Wilma, died last week and we had her service on Sunday. I do regret not having a picture with her, my Mom, my Sister, me, and my daughter.
There are things however that I don't regret. For example I don't regret not eating meals at Grandma's. At the service, my cousins told of culinary delights that included: cat food (really, Friskies cat food), ice cream covered with diced tomatoes (for breakfast, no less), and rolls with jam and nacho cheese (every day, every meal, for several days). No wonder my Mom decided to go into Home Economics.
One of my happy memories is the blue candle ritual. If you rub your hands in the smoke from a blue candle, you will have good luck. When I was a kid, she usually had a blue candle on hand just for that purpose.
Is there a single moment when we say goodbye to someone? It seems I am always saying goodbye in small ways to the people who are gone. Each small memory feels like a small loss, a little bit of pleasure and sadness rolled into one sharp emotion.
My grandma was eccentric and frequently very mean. In general, she was not happy. She was funny and interesting, and chose to live a spartan existence with few comforts. But at her service the stories recalled her ability to find happiness in small rocks, made-up stories, and walks on dirt roads. Her gracious family remembered her well. We should all be so lucky.
Light, wish, blow, and rub your hands in the smoke.
