Firekeeper's Daughter

by Angeline Boulley

When someone dies, everything about them becomes past tense. Except for the grief. Grief stays in the present.

It’s kind of annoying, though, when she keeps hopping up from the recliner to top off my dainty teacup of never-ending chamomile. Each time she does it, my flash of irritation at her hovering is replaced with guilt for being selfish and ungrateful.

When you love someone, but don’t like parts of them, it complicates your memories of them when they’re gone.

I’m reminded that our Elders are our greatest resource, embodying our culture and community. Their stories connect us to our language, medicines, land, clans, songs, and traditions. They are a bridge between the Before and the Now, guiding those of us who will carry on in the Future.