Today I have been thinking about the dead.

This is the last day of the old year. The bracken on the hill has turned brown, the elms at the valley's end have lost their leaves and the winter slaughter of our cattle has begun. Tonight is Samhain Eve.

Tonight the curtain that separates the dead from the living will quiver, fray, and finally vanish. Tonight the dead will cross the bridge of swords. Tonight the dead will come from the Otherworld to this world, but we shall not see them. They will be shadows in the darkness, mere whispers of wind in a windless night, but they will be there....There will be a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water beside the kitchen ashes tonight.

I shall leave more. A cup of mead and a piece of salmon. They are small gifts, but all I can afford, and tonight I shall place them in the shadows by the hearth then go to my monk's cell and welcome the dead who will come to this cold house on its bare hill.

~From Enemy of God by Bernard Cornwell

I too am thinking about the dead. My hearth will be my stove, where I work & offer to the Mother daily. My gifts will not be mead & salmon, but they will be precious to me. I'm thinking there is one of my beloved dead who would like for me to leave my guitar out for him. Hail to your beloved dead; may you be guided unerringly by their love & wisdom.