Worship And Other Love Rituals

Epilogue

"Looks like just about everyone in town is here," Ethan observed.

"Do you think they'll have enough candles for everyone?" wondered Leo.

It was a good question. The school didn't look equipped to host a candlelight vigil of this scale. Where would they find thousands of tea lights on short notice? Perhaps they'd pass out glow sticks instead. That seemed like a logistically sound backup plan. Though glow sticks lacked the solemn magic of flickering flames.

The sun was starting to set as Ethan, Leo and I walked toward the school. You could feel a somber mood had fallen over the town. Neighbors who usually ignored each other were stopping to talk in hushed tones. Everyone seemed to be walking in the same direction.

I noticed crowds of people spilling out onto the sidewalks and front lawns. It seemed like the entire population of our small town had gathered here. Parents were hugging their children a little tighter. Everyone was holding a small tea light candle wrapped in a paper bag to protect it from the breeze.

We trudged slowly through the parking lot, navigating around clusters of mourners. The crowd was overflowing onto the sports fields. I spotted Leo's teacher Ms. Jackson at the edge of the crowd, waving us over.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she said, giving Leo a hug. She handed each of us a candle wrapped in a paper towel. "We're about to get started, you can stand with us."

Ms. Jackson looked exhausted. Her normally pristine hair was slipping out of its bun. Grief seemed to be wearing her down from the inside. I couldn't imagine how devastated she must feel to lose one of her star students so young. Chase was captain of both the soccer and lacrosse teams. His death had left a huge hole in the fabric of this small town.

We squeezed in with Ms. Jackson' class near the front entrance. The crowd had gone silent, all facing Principal Carter who stood on the front steps, microphone in hand. Behind him hung a giant banner bearing Chase's jersey number and name.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," Principal Carter began. His voice already sounded ragged from days of public mourning. "As many of you know, we recently suffered an immense tragedy with the loss of Chase Williams. For those who didn't know Chase personally, he was the heart and soul of our school. Captain of multiple sports teams, volunteered with our booster club, had a smile that could light up any room."

I wondered how much of this was rehearsed PR speak, and how much came from a place of true grief. As an administrator, Carter had to find the right words to honor Chase while also reassuring the community. It couldn't have been an easy balance to strike.

He went on to recount some highlights of Chase's time at the school. Awards won, records broken, acts of compassion behind the scenes. You could see faces around me start to openly weep as the reality sank in deeper that their hero was truly gone.

"To honor Chase's memory... we're going to have a candlelight vigil. I ask that you take a moment of silence... to remember him before we light our candles together."

The crowd obeyed, going perfectly still and silent. I could hear the faintest sounds of sniffling and shuddering breaths all around me. Clearly the grief was still very raw.

After a respectful pause, Principal Carter struck a match. "When you're ready... please light your candle now... and keep it lit for the duration of our vigil."

Flames began to flicker to life one by one like lightning bugs waking up at dusk. A gentle amber glow spilled out to illuminate tear-streaked faces. Ethan took out his lighter to help a few struggling with their matches. I turned to check on Leo who was transfixed, watching the candle flames dance.