Standing at the patio door, watching the rain fall and drinking my coffee. There are moments in time that are forever etched into our memories. We remember the smallest details if those moments.
Today is one of those moments. Not because it’s cloudy and raining. There’s nothing, on the grand scheme of things, remarkable about it raining at the start of autumn.
Today is memorable as the day a dear friend is sent on her final journey to what lies beyond this life. Though she passed a couple of weeks ago, and her spirit has broken free of the body it was housed in, the family arranged the services to give those from across the country the time to make arrangements to come say their final goodbyes.
Unfortunately, I will not be able to make it there, and so, as our first hello was done from afar, so will our final talk to you later. We never liked the finality of saying the words good bye to each other.
So I stand at my patio, freezing my toes off, drinking my coffee, and listen to the clouds cry the tears I’m trying to hold back. “I’ll talk to you later, Maggie.” I can hear her reply, “thank you for remembering me.”
Do Not Cry
Do not cry for me, my dear…
My last wish is for you to
carry me with the breezes
when they swirl delicately
beneath the storms you’ll
gather amidst your spirit.
As rain pelts harshly against your heart,
let the soothing trickle calm your soul.
When you feel like you’re drowning,
lay down quietly and savour
the tranquillity of memories,
allow them to cleanse your pain.
I’ll speak to you through nature’s gifts
and I’ll never be far from your door.
When colourless clouds surround your mind,
I’ll paint them brightly with tones of love.
I’ll ask the birds who sing so sweetly
if I can borrow their voice
to remind you I haven’t gone far.
Every leaf or feather you see floating
is me, asking you not to cry.
Each pebble you see washed upon the shore
is your reminder that I didn’t die.
The rippling waters are my giggles
and the wave-tops are me saying hello.
Never forget how much I love you…
I’ll be here ‘till you ask me to go.
Jennifer Margaret Mcphillips