Today it is six months – half a year – since my Dad died. It was a beautiful summer day, with the wild flowers in bloom and birds singing in the skies above.
This picture was taken on his last evening. He had asked for a candle to be brought into the bedroom, and his younger brother and sister had stopped by earlier in the day with some flowers from their gardens and a final goodbye. There was sparkling wine, beers and a lovely mood, though saddened by the fact that we all knew the end was near. The end, or perhaps the release.
But as Suzanne Brøgger wrote:
The sorrow shall be written in water
The joy in stone
My Dad always loved fire. He loved lighting a good fire in the woodburner in the dining room on cold winter days and he loved lighting a good fire in the fire pit in the garden on warm summer evenings. He loved being the head of the family who ushered everybody into a darkened room while he light the candles on the Christmas tree and he loved filling trays with candle stubs for the 12th night.
So tonight, at the beginning of the longest night of the year, I celebrate the Winter Solstice and my Dad by sitting in a house illuminated only by candles and with a warm and comfy fire in the woodburner. And a small bonfire outside the windows.
So here’s to the Solstice and my Dad – and to remembering the joys we learnt from those who passed away. Like a bonfire in the middle of winter or a candle on a bedside table.
I think the best tribute to your father is the wonderful son he raised.
I assure you, I am no more wonderful than my two brothers. 😉
But thank you for your sweet comment.
Thank you for this as I am missing my dad who passed away in 98 right after the holidays. Your idea of light will help me continue to cope during these dark days as more light slowly slips into my life again!
A little bit of light always helps, I find. After all, that’s why people have celebrated light at this time of year for millennia in the Northern Hemisphere.
And there’s always light to be celebrated.
A wonderful tribute to your Dad, Soren. The warmth and the light from the candles and fire will always be a sweet reminder and analogy for you all.
It’s just nice to remember all the good stuff. There was bad stuff, too, but at the end of the day we can’t change things, so we might as well celebrate the good.
Soren, What a wonderful tribute to your father. I love the Suzanne Brogger quote — so true.
Thank you.
The quote is one of my favourites; I really think it’s good to keep that thought at the back of your head when going through rough times. At the end of the day, the candle matters more than the darkness around it.
Soren, you made me cry with this … I lost my Dad a year ago and I still miss him every day, so I understand what you are going through. My heart goes out to you and your family and I’m sending you virtual hugs.
I wasn’t terribly close with my dad, but it’s still important. And when all’s said and done I think we actually got closer as the end approached and we knew we didn’t want to leave unfinished business.
I wish you and yours a merry Christmas, even though it’s always a difficult time of year when one person is missing around the table.
I’ve just spent this week with my mother. Her one hundredth Christmas.
That sounds lovely!
My great-grandmother reached almost 104 years, and my grandmother 89. Women do seem to live longer than men…
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