Piece of paper

The rain sodden road reflected the street lamps, the light bouncing off the hard otherwise black surface. It was pretty, she reflected, or would have been if it was not for the tank that was stationed outside her window.

Looming out of the night, the bulk of the war machine infuriated her, as did her brother’s desire to join the troops in the war. But then again, if it was not for him going to the Front, she would not have her independence. Being a woman before the war had been restrictive, but now, without the men around, she was having far more fun.

But the cost had been great. The women folk of the township had their independence, but they had lost all the same. Her hands fidgetted with a piece of paper.

Her mind roved her past, coming up with bizaar memories. It rested on one in particular… the last time she had seen Chad before he had left for the war.

It had been a weekend retreat that they had disappeared off on. Mother was not to know. Mother did not approve of Chad going to fight. So sister and brother had hired a cabin close to the lake just outside their home town. It was their final time together before Chad was going away; for how long no one knew.

Hot words had been flung at him.

“FOOL!” she had hurled at Chad.

His face had clouded with anger and hurt that night. “I’m not a fool, Tracey. I’m not. I just want to join my friends on their adventure.”

“It’s not an adventure, Chad. It’s death and disaster and all that’s bad.”

Then, his anger had melted and he had cried, silent tears running down his cheeks.

“I thought of all people, you would understand, sister.”

And he had not talked to her since.

The piece of paper fluttered to the ground. It was now her face that ran with tears, as she felt a gnawing pain. She was right, had always been right, but now it was a cold comfort. The piece of paper was final proof she was right, for it was a telgram. Chad was dead.

My Champion

She lay, gasping in the snow. Her mane was as white as the ice beneath her, although her body was the colour of butter milk.

Red oozed out of an arrow wound. Francis looked away as he grabbed its shaft and pulled.

Too weak to move much, she snorted her pain rather than wriggled.

And then she was still.

The boy patted her handsome face, tears streaming down his cheeks and leaving icy rivelets down his face.

“My poor champion. Thank you for saving my life.”

The Hunter stepped back into the woodland.

Legacy and a homecoming

As the mind turns towards one’s legacy, it also turns towards thoughts about the After life

For some, the After life is a place of desolation and fear. For others, it is a place of non existence.

For me, death is a homecoming.

I can spread my love more evenly in death than in life. No longer, am I restrained by time and space, for I have met my God and realised the secret that is within being made in his image.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being alive too. It’s just an admittance that I cannot predict it’s timing and method. All I can control is how I face each day, and ultimately, my own death.

Do you fear death?

What does thinking about your legacy turn your own mind too?

Grief and my love

My beautiful Soul Pet, Milo, taught me a powerful lesson in grief last year.

For those of you who have been following Liz’s Everest since then, you would remember an article including a poem. That poem I wrote at the death of my Granddad.
I posted it upon the death of Milo.

Death was a release for both these living beings. I know that, yet still I can’t help but miss them.

As I face my parents aging, I know that I have the power within me to take the lessons I’ve learned from them into my future. And I know this, because Milo taught me.

The theme for this season is Legacy.

May each of you be thoughtful about the legacy you leave behind. And of the legacy that others give you at their own passing.

Watch this space, as other articles will be posted between now and the end of April, dealing with legacy.

It’s a fitting theme, as those of us in the Southern Hemisphere start the wind down into Winter.

R. I. P Milo

This is a poem i wrote when my Granddad passed away. I’m sharing it with you today as a tribute to another death close to my heart.

Yesterday, my beloved dog, Milo, passed away, while i was at work.

R. I. P. love of my life. And thank you for gracing my life for the eleven years you were a part of it.

No one has known love until they’ve been loved by a dog.

I thought I was alone today

Looking into the blue,

Then I noticed a change

As the breeze gently blew

I looked around and felt something

I didn’t know what I sought

But realised then that I was wrong

As to me came a thought

It came to me gently as I stood there

It beckoned me to take note

And as I saw the clouds above

To me came new hope

Not quite a memory

Stirred in my mind

A glimpse of better times

That I thought I had left behind

Then I heard a voice

Gently in the breeze

“I am here with you forever

Now just let me stay please

I will stand by your side

And watch while you sleep

I will be there now

Even as for me you weep

And if you ever want a yarn

Or just to let me know

Light a candle and I’ll be there

And I’ll stay until you let me go.

Look for me beyond the clouds

Seek me in the sky

Search for me past the rainbow

And as the rain passes by

I will meet you there one day

I will wait until you see

That past where the night meets the sun

I am where I am meant to be.”

I wrote this the day after Grandad died…so on 21 October 2010.