...and so, I light a candle...

My grandma used to always have a lit candle in the window in a special candelabrum she kept near her doorway. When I asked her about it, she'd tell me it would light when family or friends would “pass through”. She’d inherited this candelabrum from her grandma, which was probably difficult to do considering the inability for many African slaves to have personal property at that time, but this silver candlestick somehow had followed her family from the Virginia colonies in the 1700's to the West coast here in California. It would hold five candles, yet only one was always in the heart; yet the oddity which piqued my curiosity, was that this candle would always light as if on its own power prior to any news. I had always meant to ask her how it would, yet it would never come up in conversation.

Over the years, I would see her tending to it; yes also even talking to it. It seemed to offer her news even before anyone else knew. I had seen candles out and not lit which were placed in it, but if you stared at it long enough it would seem to have a “flame”. When we would receive any news of a distant relative dying, even before anyone told her, the candle would bear a flame just before anyone’s arrival. When she was really ill, she decided not to seek anymore care and wanted to be in her home. In the room we prepared for her, she insisted on making sure we had her candelabrum just at her doorway. Over those months, I would never see it lit as I came to visit her. On the date of her passing though, it was illuminated. No one had been in her room prior to her death.

After she died, the family worked through the items left behind. There were quite a few items many in the family would take, yet my father called me on the phone to let me know there was something left for me especially by her; the candelabrum. She had passed the candelabra down to me, and gave specific instructions. One of these instructions was to ensure that there would always be a candle, in the heart of the candelabra. It was to be replenished as needed and kept on display nearby a door. The second and probably the most peculiar of instructions, was that I was to “feed” the candle in the candelabrum and speak to it. The “food” was a simple oil recipe, mixed with sweet flowers. I accommodated the request, even as my aunts eyed me suspiciously, each one knowing of this “spooky” candelabrum and having grown up around it.

Around a month after I got the candelabra, I walked by it in the hallway and noticed a flame dancing on the candle. I tilted my head and called to my roommate and I asked if she had lit it. She said she hadn’t but she thought I had. We both stood there staring at the flame dancing on the wick, illuminating the silver when suddenly, were startled by the ringing of our telephone. She answered the phone, horror registered on her face as she told me her uncle had died just an hour before. We looked to each other, then to the candelabrum, beaming a bright flame. I held onto this candelabrum for decades, and even when I had the unlit candle remain so for days, weeks even years on end, it would automatically light once I received news of a relative's death.

On the dawn of January 1st 2020, the candle was at a peaceful moment, however on the second day, it lit. I had received news from my friend of his wife who had died from the flu. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t end. My candelabrum had been frequently fed one candle after another, for first February and even until now here in October after news of family and friends losing family in the wave of our pandemic. I started to run out of candles, as the flame seemed insatiable and would consume each candle supplied. On one day, it seemed to stop. Then it was two days, no flame. Two weeks had passed, no news and I was overjoyed. The pandemic seemed to keep many of us scared to venture out, so I had visited with some dear friends for a barbecue. So many I hadn’t seen, so many who I’d never see due to their passing. I recall wishing to see some of them again.

I woke on this October morning and noticed something was off. The air seemed thicker, so much so I felt I couldn’t breathe. I smelled the air, but I couldn’t recognize any scent. I practically fell out of my bed, before I noticed a luminescence at the candelabrum; a flame beginning to slowly climb the new wick. The ardent flame grew and shone brighter. It was then, that I began to feel feverish. I found myself going to my medicine cabinet to get a thermometer. My fever had gone to 103 degrees, was I about to die? I had been so careful, never once forgetting my mask…except, at the barbecue. Oh no! Would my friends get sick as well?

I began to seize and shake, gasping for air, but having difficulty breathing. I was alone. None would find me here or bear witness to my aid, even after the sudden paralysis of what seemed to be a stroke as I attempted to call 911.

I realized it just might be my time, there was nothing I could do to stop it and then it dawned on me, on how these candles lit. They were lit by the dead in visitation to help guide their passage. The dead would stop by and push the last of their essence, so others can remember them; the last vestige of their spirit expressing the news of their leaving. I wondered who would come, to see me to the other side; to witness this candle burning. As consciousness faded from me, the light grew brighter, I knew I was lighting the candle…

…and so, I light a candle…