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The Garden Gate

© Jodi Wetherup

Sometimes writing can help us deal with the passing of loved ones. As we all know, healing after such losses can be a huge obstacle to overcome. I feel that perhaps I knew something was coming, as in one of my recent newsletters (either Pagan Muse, or Spiritual Wellness) I re-published an old article from this column - Healing After a Loss. I believe it was the last issue of Pagan Muse actually.

On Wednesday, my mother was notified that my grandmother had taken a turn for the worse following hip replacement surgery (she'd fallen the week before and broken the ball from the hip). At midnight, my grandfather came in spirit, and the two were reunited. It was such a blessing - my grandmother had been suffering with Alzheimer's Disease for ten years, and in the ten months since Gramps had passed on, she'd been looking for him.

I wrote this about two hours after receiving the call.

May the Lady's light and love carry them forward into their next lives. We'll love and miss you always - merry we met, merry we parted - but merry we'll meet again.

The Garden Gate
For Grandma Shirley

In my mind, I see them, meeting at a gate.

The gate is under an arbor, overgrown with ivy, and surrounded by a fence. Along the fence grows low shrubs covered over in pale pink, blush roses. He stands tall, proud and handsome. Teasing blue eyes sparkle in the moonlight.

He's been waiting for her. She's been looking for him. She walks slowly at first, her steps pained and unsure. Is this the man she seeks? He looks so different than she recalls. More like the man she first knew. As she draws near, her steps become lighter - her back straighter. Her eyes begin to dance as she recognizes the young man at the gate. As her hand reaches for his, the moonlight touches the pale skin and smoothes the lines away. Yes, this is he. He opens the gate for her, and she steps through - into his arms and they embrace. They've been apart a very long time now.

Beyond him she can see others - a young man - tall, brash and handsome as the dickens. He's holding the hands of two little girls who look so very much alike, but not quite identical. She smiles. She remembers now. Those three - they share a birthday. He came for them when it was their time. There, beside them - a man in a wheelchair. She remembers him..mischief maker. Did he really think he was getting away with all those tricks? She was on to him!

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