In the corner of my living room sits an old, dusty lamp. It’s base is chipped; and the shade, dingy and creased. My lamp is always lit, as a beacon of sorts.
A reminder? A memorial? A path to home?
It is a bereavement lamp, of sorts. It has been shining for over 15 years, and will keep shining for as long as I can keep it going. It is a reminder to me of love known and lost, and the knowledge that one day, we’ll be back together again.