After Elena died –
Sigh.
How many sentences and stories have I started with that phrase over the past nearly twelve years?
Any way.
After Elena died, whenever Kim and I would visit a church on our travels, she would light a candle for Elena.
We’d be walking around the interior of the church and come to the shrine for the Virgin Mary. Kim would look at it and lean over an whisper, “do you have a Euro?” or whatever it was. It got to be that I would already have the coins in my hand and put it into her palm before she even asked.
I’d stand and watch as Kim put the coins in the box and lit a candle for Elena.
And then Kim died.
Last year, before we visited Paris, I asked Maggie if she would mind lighting candles for Elena and her mother.
I know that’s a lot to ask.
It seemed that a Catholic should light the candles. Kim always said a prayer when she did it. It may be a stretch to call Maggie a Catholic – but she was raised to know the religion and, whether she believes or not, I think they count her as one since she was baptized and confirmed.
Maggie agreed and when we got to Sacre Coeur I went off to get change for the candles and returned and put the money in the box.
I watched as Maggie lit the candles for her mother and her sister.
It meant so much to me to see her light the candles with so much respect and love.
This year Maggie is back in college.
I was in Italy during her fall break so she joined me.
In Venice as we entered a church she asked me if we would light candles for Kim and Elena.
I nodded.
It meant so much to me that she asked.
Over winter break I was preparing for my upcoming trip to Paris. Kim always lit candles in Sacre Coeur and Maggie had lit them the year before. I asked Maggie if it would be disrespectful if a non-Catholic lit the candles.
She said, no, she didn’t think so.
I told her I wouldn’t be saying any prayers.
She thought it was enough if I thought of Kim and Elena as I lit the candles.
So I did.
After nearly twelve years I lit a candle myself for my dead daughter.
It felt completely different. It was a combination of honoring Elena and of not having Kim there to light it.
I cried as I’d cried as I watched Kim light the candle for her daughter.
I cried as I’d cried as I watched Maggie light the candle for her sister.
It was different.
If I had to explain it, I think this time I was crying for my loss whereas before I was crying for theirs.
Then I lit a candle for Kim.
It was as intimate a gesture as the first time I reached out and held her hand.
I felt her there for a moment.
I don’t mean in a creepy way that she was really there. But I felt the way I felt when she stood next to me.
I stood and watched the candles flicker for a while.
And then I felt her gone.
I stood a moment longer. And then I moved on.