As I blew out mom’s candle last night (I burn her candle on special occasions such as her birthday and anniversaries), I spoke the words I usually speak in prayer, “though I extinguish this candle, may its flame glow all the brighter in my heart, mind and conscious”.
And, I watched as the smoke curled upwards, towards heaven, and disappeared into thin air – leaving the black, extinguished, wick behind.
The flame died.
Like a body, the physical wick was dead.
But, the smoke, like a soul, or a spirit, rose towards heaven as it disappeared into the air.
Mom is home.