The Hardest Words to Find, and the Gentle Gift of Leaving Notes
I recently read a book called The Light a Candle Society, and it has stayed with me. Not because of a dramatic plot or a twist at the end, but because of a quiet idea at its heart. In the story, there is a small group of people who gather to remember those who have died, not through grand speeches or long readings, but by lighting a single candle and sharing one thing about that person that mattered. Not the headline moments, not the big achievements, but the small acts of kindness, the gentle habits, the human details that show who someone really was. – THE BOOK
One remembered the way a person always made a cup of tea for others before themselves.
Another remembered a laugh that filled a kitchen.
Someone else remembered a habit of leaving little encouraging notes under magnets on the fridge.
The book reminded me that a life is not measured by how impressive it looks from the outside. It is measured by the way it felt to be around someone. The softness they brought to a room. The steadiness they gave you when you were falling apart. The memories that appear when you least expect them and suddenly ask you to stop and breathe for a moment.
And it also reminded me of something else.
How incredibly difficult it is to talk about someone when they are gone.
We think, when the time comes, that the words will arrive easily. We imagine ourselves speaking with clarity and love about the person we have lost.
But in reality, when grief is fresh, the words are rarely ready.
Even families struggle. Even very close friends. Even people who spent years sharing meals, holidays, late night conversations, and ordinary everyday joys. When asked to stand up and speak about someone, we suddenly do not know where to begin.
How do you summarise a life?
How do you choose which stories to tell and which to leave out?
How do you speak clearly when your heart is aching?
Most eulogies are written at a time when the person writing them is exhausted, overwhelmed, and trying to hold themselves together. It is one of the most emotional tasks anyone will ever face. And yet we often expect ourselves to step into that moment and somehow know how to tell someone else’s story.
That is where the inspiration from The Light a Candle Society becomes powerful. The book made me realise that what makes those candle moments so meaningful is that they are drawn from real memory, shared in the person’s own spirit. They are not invented on the spot. They are already inside the people who speak.
It made me think about the value of leaving notes about your life while you are still here to tell the story yourself. Not a formal autobiography. Not a perfect document. Not something heavy or serious. Just small, gentle memories written in your own voice.
You could write about the things that shaped you.
The things that delighted you.
The things you tried to do well.
The things that confused you and the things that made you proud.
The things that mattered.
The things you hope someone will remember.
And of course the things that made you laugh…
And you do not need to write them all at once.
One note at a time is enough.
These notes are not just for you.
They are for the people who will one day speak for you.
When the time comes, your family and friends will not have to guess.
They will not have to strain to think of the perfect phrasing.
They will not have to search for the threads that make a beginning, middle, and end.
They will have your voice right there with them.
They will be able to say:
This is what she loved.
This is what he valued.
This is what they believed.
These are their words.
This is their memory, in their own language and rhythm.
And there is comfort in that.
There is relief in that.
There is love in that.
We often think that preparing anything to do with death is morbid. But in truth, it can be one of the most thoughtful and gentle things we ever do. It is not about planning for an ending. It is about gifting clarity and kindness to those who will continue your story.
One day, someone may stand in a quiet room and try to find the right words to speak about you. One day, a candle may be lit in your name, or a photograph may be placed somewhere special, or a song you loved may play at a gathering.
Your notes can help make that moment easier.
Softer.
Truer.
More like you.
The book reminded me that we do not have to wait to be remembered. We can shape how we are remembered, simply by sharing the real pieces of ourselves now.
A favourite recipe.
A song that instantly transports you.
A story that makes you laugh every time.
A small belief you held.
A lesson someone once gave you.
A wish for the people you love.
These little notes are part of your light.
And one day, they will guide someone who is standing in the quiet, trying to speak for you.
Just like the candle in the story. Just like the note Mak left…
Link to: About
Where do you start? Its personal but some ideas that could inspire you:
Write about a small memory that still makes you smile.
Who was with you? What was happening?
A lesson you learned from someone you loved.
A place that feels important to you, and why.
A song, meal, or object that carries meaning.
What is the story behind it?
A moment you are proud of.
What made it matter?
If someone were to speak about you one day,
what would you hope they would remember?
A message for someone you care about,
in your own words.
Start a Note Now….
