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Light That Candle

Light the candle... You know, that good one you received as a gift or that one you splurged on for yourself because the smell was just too amazing to pass up. If you are like me, you have been hoarding them and "saving" them... But saving them for what..?

Last week before one of our classes, I glanced at a candle that I had received as a gift. Still all fresh, just sitting there collecting dust and if I would've kept on like I always do, it would be there for years. I lit it, my room filled with the scent of roses and a touch of mint. What was I waiting for!? A better day? Company to come over so that I could hide the stench of my poodle and maybe what I had burnt for dinner? The lights to go out?... No time was actually better than that one moment then. Just to simply enjoy it.

Not long after Ezra died, there was a story of a momma whale who had lost her baby. She "mothered" her dead baby for days carrying it's lifeless body across the sea so that it wouldn't sink to the bottom. She wasn't ready to let it go. The female whales in her pod followed her along her journey helping carry her baby when she grew tired.

Hundreds of miles later, she finally had to "let go".

Days in that hospital room I "mothered" my Ezra's lifeless little body. I could not "let him go". I swaddled him, I sang to him, I brushed his hair, I talked to him, I kissed him, I slept with him by my side, I made sure he was wrapped in his blanket so he wouldn't "get cold". I took in all of the time that I could to be his mommy and although some may have saw that to be morbid, it was natural to me. I kept him as long as I could. The day the funeral home came to get him, I screamed on my knees in that bed until I couldn't breath, begging them to take me with him. I had to "let him go".

My cousin that is more like a brother to me, his wife came into my room. She looked at me with her grieving eyes, rubbed my head, and said, "oh Jessie, I understand, it's okay". She talked about how beautiful he was and not one second did she ever seem to feel peculiar that I had him by my side. She got it. As a mommy, she understood. Just as that momma whale had her pod, Rebecca was a part of my "pod". I never got to tell her that.

We just lost sweet Rebecca to COVID-19. Almost 3 years later and I never took the chance to tell her how much those, what may have seemed like small gestures to her, meant to me and how thankful I was that she was a part of my "pod". This is what made me light that candle.

What do we wait for?

Most of the time, we wait because there is always plenty of time... We wait to say I'm sorry or forgive because we feel as if they should be the ones to reach out first. We wait to call that friend because we just assume we can later.

We wait to apologize for things because we are too stubborn or feel ashamed.

We wait, or even worse, fail to tell the ones that we love how much they mean to us because we believe they already know.

The reality of life is, we do not know how many days we have here on this earth.

We can spend our lives making excuses, waiting until a better time, only to find that time never came.

We can appreciate the people we love in action instead of distracting ourselves with everyday worries. We can be brave in expressing our thoughts and feelings instead of over-analyzing and talking ourselves out of it. We can decide for ourselves what truly matters and honor it while we have the chance.

This is our chance to live and love. This moment is our only guaranteed opportunity to be thoughtful, compassionate, understanding, forgiving, and kind to the people we value.

Time stops for no one.

Put on the skates, shake a leg, do it now,


Rebecca Lynn Haddock

Oct 9, 1984 - Jan 15, 2021

In Loving Memory

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