The legacy of a life well lived

Day 67

I went to my old friend's funeral yesterday. I visualised him standing at the front of the church, smiling at us all the way he used to. I spoke to him quietly in my mind. "Thank you, Eric, for choosing me to be one of those, whose path you crossed in this lifetime. Thank you for sharing who you were. I know what a true gentleman is now, partly because of you. I am grateful indeed, that of all the people in this world, I was one of those included in your life, if even for a brief time. God speed, and say 'hello' to my sister, where you are going."

His newest grandchild was also in the church - a tiny girl named Rose Erica, after her grandad. She wore bright Christmas red, and she glowed amongst the sea of black like a heartbeat, a ruby, a promise, a prayer. The pure life-force streamed from her like an affirmation of everything good and true and precious. She pulled our attention. She would suddenly shriek with delight at a sunbeam or a funny face. Her place in the cycle of life made Eric's passing a natural peace - a life is over, but another life is also beginning, and so it goes on, just as it should.

We stayed overnight with some wonderful, true friends, and came home today, tired, a little emotional, enriched and saddened, having been spoilt and entertained, and leaving their gin and tonic bottles a little (a lot) emptier. I worry about all my friends, about their difficulties, their trials and misfortunes. I wonder if I do enough, if I give back sufficiently for all they do for me. I know without one shred of doubt that I would not have coped with my own troubles, without the generosity of their support in the past.

I hope I say the right things. I hope I cheer them up at the right times, and lend an ear when it's needed. I hope I step up with practical help often enough. I hope also that they know how grateful I am, and how much they mean to me. It is the one area of my life where I feel rich beyond description, no matter what else is happening, or how little we sometimes have. I know I cannot solve their problems, or choose the right path for them, nor am I responsible for them. Sorrow is part of every life, and that also, is how it should be, but I'm here, guys, I'm here - call me if you need me.

I gravitated naturally towards Steve that night, reinforcing a connection to the life we have here and now. I held his arm around me as we drifted to sleep, letting the air between our skin communicate for us, "it is ok, there is nothing to be afraid of, the past is gone, the future will be what we make it, and this moment - this moment, is where we are now, and nothing else matters".

Death inspires that affirmation as much as it brings the grief. Perhaps the energy released from a life returning to source, seeks to renew and remind those left behind as it passes along. Maybe that is the final blessing a departing soul can bestow, the 'Amazing Grace' that we sang of.

A last gift from Eric.

I like to think so.