Challenging the Darkness

Circumstances a few weeks ago took me to the graveside of a departed dearly-loved one in Dunstable. And as these things go in these busy modern days, I was quite late getting there. 

It was during those days of early February when there was still snow on the ground, and there was a light foggy haze in the air already, even before the dusk, and it was nearly dark while I was there, the sun just setting and the lights of West Street hanging jaundiced away across the cemetery. And it was the first time I'd noticed the solar lights.

It's a modern tradition, and quite a nice one, I think. Many of the graves - especially those more recently occupied, and even more especially the large Irish and Gipsy graves - have these little solar powered garden lights. And as the dark took hold, the solar lights came into their own - a cold, brittle off-white like so many little will o' the wisps.

You could easily imagine each of these lights as a soul tarrying above the body's last resting place - those above-ground lights showing the community of Dunstable Beyond, now resting in that quiet chalk.

It seems to be a touching statement of - well of what? Maybe faith, in some cases. Just a desire to do something nice, in others. But it seemed to me like a challenge to the darkness. Whatever it may seem, this life is not all there is. Death is a vicious enemy, but its victory will not last forever. We will rage, in any way we can, against the dying of the light. And we believe that if a light shines in the darkness, there's a good chance that, even if we don't understand it, neither will the darkness.