I knelt down by the make-shift alter today, the one that the women built in the place where you died. There were three unlit candles standing quietly in the platter, sharing the creamy gold color that burgeoning sunlight holds. I spoke to you. I am so thankful to you. I meditated alone and without fear, there in the place you died.
It is my birthday again, and this is a sort of milestone; an age I wanted to reach but thought I would never see; you left instead. Our Granny held my face and kissed it, saying a blessing for this event that now falls on the actual day of the week I arrived. You would have appreciated that fact. How could I have survived without your counsel, your friendship, your protection? I am so thankful to you. I am so thankful for you.