Candles at Sunset
We gather at Gleeson’s Lock at the canal’s west end just as the sun prepares to set. In the west, the sky glows in shades of purple, orange, and red as we light our candles. Protecting the flames from the breeze with our cupped hands, we shift to form a circle and reflect on the friends we have lost and have not had the opportunity to honour as a group. Having shared so many experiences, we have thought of them often 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 no longer walk among us. While both shared a love of the great outdoors and had similar tastes in food, they differed vastly in their personalities.
One would be blissfully content 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 talented handyman, he crafted a wooden paddle for his sea kayak, built canoe and kayak racks for the club, and often repaired equipment for us. Frequently, he would plug geocache coordinates into his GPS to optimize his excursions. He was happiest spending leisure time camping in the woods or paddling on a lake with his friends.
The other loved gear and would immerse himself in lengthy research and comparisons before purchasing major items such as an electric bicycle or a kayak. He enjoyed watching baseball and hockey games and worked as an usher at the Ottawa Senators games for years. His decision to persuade his friend to take ballroom dancing lessons with him resulted in a love match – my husband’s and mine. I learned recently that he was the original “Walk to Brunch” event planner, a tradition that continues today.
Tonight we are invited to share stories of adventures and misadventures and the tales come tumbling out. “Do you remember when he got lost while geocaching?” says one. “What about the time he fell in the mud up to his neck”, chimes in another. There are many such prompts and each story seems funnier than the next. Curiously, throughout the narrations, our candles keep flickering in the breeze and extinguishing themselves and we must relight them each time. Perhaps our departed friends are causing havoc, playfully letting us know they are here with us. One of them in particular, would want to keep things lighthearted.
When the stories start to peter out, we decide to have a moment of silence, but alas someone does not hear the request and unwittingly breaks the silence after less than a minute with an elaborate story of his own. This elicits a fit of giggles from our circle and for all our good intentions, any semblance of silence is all but abandoned. I am sure that if our friends are watching, they have already forgiven us and are chuckling too.
We set off on our sunset walk along the canal and around the OPG Centre to complete our memorial. Some bring along their burning candles, warm wax dripping down their fingers. The soft 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 generation station reflects in the river and helps to guide our way around the loop. It looks rather impressive in the darkness. What intrigues me the most as we approach the end of our walk is the fact that, for its duration, the candles did not once fizzle out. In all likelihood, the breeze has died, but it is just as easy to believe that the spirits have turned serious for a time and stopped teasing us.
This special night of unity has focused on the legacy of a couple of remarkable men. 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 be forever in our hearts.
