Ancestors, Where Art Thou?

Written by Brittany Lawrence

Sometimes I can see it flicker in the wind, far off in the distance. Only faintly visible each time a warm, youthful memory resurfaces. The candle of our family traditions. 

With each passing relative, the traditions start to fade - Oh great grandmother. Oh young cousin gone too soon - so that the very thought of pretending things are still the same brings more grief than joy.  

The squabble of the century. Holding grudges so cold, we’d never dare to try and break through. For that summer turned into winter in an instant and has pressed on for over a decade. Tread lightly, for any decision made is a side chosen and it’s always the wrong one. 

Oh Ancestors, where art thou? The flame of your traditions no longer strong enough to ignite the energy in each of us to try and keep it alive. The family let it die. A slow, dwindling death. Witnessed by all, helped by none.

The weight of responsibility has always been heavy on my shoulders. That I and I alone, have the duty to spark new in all the things we are missing. But after almost 30 years, it is an exhausted effort. 

Oh Ancestors, come find me. Meet me in this place where my youth is gone, and it is my time to bring forth the next. Inspire your lore. Show me thy ways so that I can do better. Building a foundation for the new innocence soon to join. 

A new candle. Baptizing the wick of the extinguished with new wax. For a new family brings a new flame.

Oh Ancestors, gone but not forgotten. Send a spark.