It’s February 1, and you left today. It’s been coming for a long time, but I guess when you called me from Chicago I knew for sure. You seemed so very far away, and yet so close – almost as if I could touch you through the phone line . . .
The air is crisp tonight as we take our walk; you tucked safely away in the corner of my mind. The sky is clear but there’s no moon; I guess our Grandmother is sleeping, or maybe busy elsewhere. The stars are out though, and it’s good to have them for company. I stare up at them and wonder: how far is far away? Forgive me if I stop for a minute or two along the road; I haven’t spoken with the trees here for some time and there is always lots of catching up to do.
The one thing that keeps popping into my mind is one of the last things you said to me before we parted, “I’m sorry for all of the trouble I caused you.” You could not be more wrong, you know. Are you listening to this? Our time together was very special, and I remember it as filled with laughter, not tears. If I really force myself to remember, I can dredge up thoughts of sorrow, but I’d really rather leave them buried where they are. There are no absolutely perfect relationships, for there are no perfectly compatible people to form them. Perfection is a fool’s dream, like chasing shadows and trying to catch them. Believe me when I tell you that what we shared was and always will be unforgettable to me. You brought me trust, compassion, understanding and love, and shared them with me in giving up a part of yourself. You will always be a part of me, and nobody can remove those memories from my soul.
We’re nearing the end of the road now; just a few more steps and we’ll be on the path leading to the forest. Around this bend, and we’ve arrived. See how the path widens here? It makes a perfect circle in the forest floor. The trees accommodate this circle as well, for if you look up you can see the halo their branches make against the sky. I’ve spread my blanket out across the snow, and now we kneel against the soft cushion covering the earth. In the distance the ice is shifting, and it booms loudly into the night.
As I unwrap my bundle, my only prayers tonight are for you. I ask the Grandparents to watch over you, and to allow you to experience all that you may. The smoke sifts gently through the night air, and the stars look down on us and smile. As I leave this circle, I leave behind a candle burning in the snow. It’s not to suggest that I carry a torch for you, but to remind you of your connection to our Mother. It’s also there as a beacon, to guide you safely back home. I can not say what we will be, but another beacon burns in my heart, and you will always be welcome there.
Take care my friend. I love you.
Mike Pedde 1/2/92