And so it was, a day of honor and remembrance.

At the break of dawn, lingers the smell of melted wax and smoke, all coming from the stubs of flickering flames—alight to represent the enduring memory of those departed. The candles that once burned bright now lay puddled, hard, and forgotten. But not once did those candles end with grief. 

Amidst the heavy air of the burial ground, children and adults roam with plastic bags and metal tools. Despite the creepy stories, they traverse like it was the back of their hand, going through every nook of cemeteries. They scrape off everything that people left behind—every stub and trace of candle wax. They scoop with a spoon and makeshift scoops, gathering all that they can in different colors of mourning—white, yellow, and red, each once carried the love and prayer to someone. From what was an offering of gratitude to the memories left by the deceased, now in the hands of others for new creation. 

The ritual continues—at a corner, they gather, weighing all that they have collected. All of the wax is carefully remelted, then poured into a plastic cup with a new wick perfectly centered. And when the wax hardened, a new candle was born. It may be unevenly layered, but imperfectly beautiful. The streets would be their next destination, selling the candles bound to be rekindled for someone's birthday, prayer, or to carry grief once more. 

Stepping foot into cemeteries, it was never fear that their heart contained; it was the need to find a sense of happiness and make the most of the barest thing that they could only have—things people have abandoned, including the melted wax that others have left. 

In this cycle lies something profound—a unique metaphor of persisting hope among Filipinos. That even through hardships, we seek every positive chance and use it for the better. The candles that we thought ended with grief are remade—transformed into something new and unique that could serve another purpose, molded by the bare, genuine hands of those who seek happiness. The action itself is revolutionary; it keeps our environment clean by reducing waste buildup, maintaining cemeteries as pristine, sacred places—a space where our hearts call to the departed and express love and devotion. 

As a child, I used to do the same. Along with my friends and cousins, we leave no puddled wax in sight. It was our way of showing respect to the place, and all the same, enjoying the time that we had as kids. But now, these are only scenarios I could only watch from afar. Some even see this as a means of making money, but hopefully, someday, they may find peace and the comfort they long sought, and the lives they wanted, as I am living a different one now.