Candles at Sunset – The Seeker Newsmagazine Cornwall

We gather at Gleeson’s Lock, at the western end of the canal, just as the sun is about to set. In the west, the sky glows in shades of purple, orange and red as we light our candles. Shielding the flames from the breeze with cupped hands, we shift to form a circle and reflect on the friends we lost and didn’t get a chance to honor as a group. Having shared so many experiences, we have often thought of them since their passing. Simple things like a Tilley hat with a braided band or a white Kevlar kayak are reminders of these special individuals who are no longer with us. While they both shared a love of the outdoors and had similar tastes in food, they differed greatly in their personalities.

One would be happy shopping at the Army Surplus Store and could identify camouflage patterns by type and country at a glance. He also enjoyed collecting camp stoves. A gifted salvager, he created a wooden paddle for his sea kayak, built racks for club canoes and kayaks, and often repaired equipment for us. He frequently plugged geocache coordinates into his GPS to optimize his trips. He was happiest when spending his free time camping in the woods or paddling on a lake with his friends.

The other loved gear and immersed himself in lengthy research and comparisons before purchasing major items like an electric bike or kayak. He enjoyed watching baseball and hockey games and worked as an usher at Ottawa Senators games for years. His decision to convince his friend to take ballroom dancing lessons with him resulted in a love match – my husband’s and mine. I recently learned that he was the original “Walk to Brunch” event planner, a tradition that continues today.

Tonight we are invited to share stories of adventure and misadventure, and the stories come out. “Remember when it got lost while geocaching?” says one. “How about when he fell in mud up to his neck,” chimed in another. There are many such suggestions and each story seems funnier than the next. Curiously, throughout the narratives, our candles keep flickering in the breeze and going out, and we have to relight them each time. Maybe our departed friends are wreaking havoc, playfully letting us know they’re here with us. One of them in particular would like to keep things light.

As the stories begin to fade, we decide to have a moment of silence, but unfortunately someone doesn’t hear the request and unwittingly breaks the silence after less than a minute with an elaborate story of his own. This provokes a fit of giggles from our circle and, with all our good intentions, any semblance of silence is all but abandoned. I’m sure if our friends are watching, they’ve already forgiven us and are giggling too.

We set off on the sunset walk along the canal and around the OPG Center to complete our memorial. Some bring their lit candles, warm wax dripping on their fingers. The gentle glow of their candles gives the effect of their spiritual presence accompanying us on our pilgrimage. It is both symbolic and comforting. The illuminated power station is reflected in the river and helps guide us around the loop. It looks quite impressive in the dark. What intrigues me the most as we near the end of our walk is the fact that during its duration the candles did not go out once. In all probability the breeze has gone, but it is just as easy to believe that the spirits became serious for a time and ceased to tease us.

This special unit night focused on the legacy of a remarkable male couple. Their impact on our lives will be felt for a long time. A sense of closure fills me as we blow out our candles and disperse. I hope they know how much we miss them and how their memory will live forever in our hearts.