I set up the room to enjoy quiet time by lighting a candle. I saw the battery operated candle in a lantern from friends to remind me of your passion and flame for Christ. I had forgotten to turn it off the other day so the batteries must be dead I thought. I lay on the coach after the vaccine, tired and overwhelmed. I lay books aside and look out the window.

So it is.

I can only find the space to just be. A longing to stay here is interrupted by the old age need to excuse myself of the uncounted cups of coffee.

I look and there the flame from the candle is burning.

Not by my hands or prayers did the light illuminate. It was you saying it’s all going to be okay. I smile and go to see mom in your beloved space in our home. She’s on your side of the bed with the covers over her head fast asleep. On her side of the bed is a pillow with a picture of you on it made by a beautiful friend and a tiny little heart pillow. Sweet love. I smile. I crawl into bed next to her, quietly, and hold her hand. The mattress is perfect, the sheets soft, and they smell of lavender. We talk about life, cry, and I tell her about your flame. “He is still with us”, she remarks with a smile. In agreement I say, “Yes, he is”.

I love you, Daddy. We miss you.