We write their names in the book of the dead, but we wish we could do more:
If only there was some way we could communicate with those souls gone on to what will come after death:
If only we didn't have to think of them, flesh turning to dust:
But the gate between worlds seems closed to us:
What can we do but pray, and hope that they pray for us?
What can we do but hope?
We must trust that the sunset
will turn into the promise that comes with sunrise, the joy that comes after the night of weeping:
For more concrete ways to celebrate this Feast Day, see this post that I wrote several years ago.