The Kindly Man....Pt 3
Four bodies walked down the aisle of the church to the front, each holding a red rose in their hand. People turned to stare at them as they passed, tuttering behind their fingers. They stood staring down at the man they loved, the mother inconsolable, the sisters and brother trying to hold her up, while going through their own emotions. Each took their turn to place the rose next to his face. They walked back to their seats and waited for the service to begin. The brother dashed outside, he had to hold it together. He had his cigarette while he forced his thoughts to cling in his mind. All they wanted to do was scatter out the sides of his ears and chase the emotions that were crowding the air.
He was half way up the aisle when he felt a small tug on the back of his jacket. He turned to see the young boy standing behind him and knelt down on one knee so he could look at him in the eyes. Those eyes were staring firm. They were purple underneath, bruised from the tears that had fallen. "I want to see my Dad." His voice was strong for one so young. For the past few days as his father lay in his hospital bed the boy had begged the people around him to take him to see his dad. None had paid any attention. What did this boy want with a man who he hardly knew and who was so sick? He was too young to understand.
In his hand he had a flower he had picked from outside the church. It had been held to tightly in his fingers that the leaves were slightly crushed, their colourful tears staining his skin. The man stood and took the little hand in his and led him up the aisle.. He cried as he saw the little body stand up on tip toes to peer over the side. The boy stood there for a while, just looking, studying every detail of the face. He put the flower on his fathers chest and stared some more. He did understand, he was wise, this young one. He turned and went back to his uncle who was waiting for him. "Thank you". The little hand slid into the big one and a smile spread across his face that beamed throughout the room.
***At this time time of the year everyone has someone special that they miss. Those people would not want our tears to wet the ground. They would not want our hearts to be heavy with sadness. They would want our bodies to shake with laughter and our minds to be filled with memories of love and good times.
Children remind us of this at Christmas time, for it is their innocence that makes it magical. Sometimes we do not listen to these little people but they were blessed with a mind too and they feel just as we do. I hope that we all take the time to listen to their words, because sometimes things happen that no amount of tears can change.***
He was half way up the aisle when he felt a small tug on the back of his jacket. He turned to see the young boy standing behind him and knelt down on one knee so he could look at him in the eyes. Those eyes were staring firm. They were purple underneath, bruised from the tears that had fallen. "I want to see my Dad." His voice was strong for one so young. For the past few days as his father lay in his hospital bed the boy had begged the people around him to take him to see his dad. None had paid any attention. What did this boy want with a man who he hardly knew and who was so sick? He was too young to understand.
In his hand he had a flower he had picked from outside the church. It had been held to tightly in his fingers that the leaves were slightly crushed, their colourful tears staining his skin. The man stood and took the little hand in his and led him up the aisle.. He cried as he saw the little body stand up on tip toes to peer over the side. The boy stood there for a while, just looking, studying every detail of the face. He put the flower on his fathers chest and stared some more. He did understand, he was wise, this young one. He turned and went back to his uncle who was waiting for him. "Thank you". The little hand slid into the big one and a smile spread across his face that beamed throughout the room.
***At this time time of the year everyone has someone special that they miss. Those people would not want our tears to wet the ground. They would not want our hearts to be heavy with sadness. They would want our bodies to shake with laughter and our minds to be filled with memories of love and good times.
Children remind us of this at Christmas time, for it is their innocence that makes it magical. Sometimes we do not listen to these little people but they were blessed with a mind too and they feel just as we do. I hope that we all take the time to listen to their words, because sometimes things happen that no amount of tears can change.***
From The Home Front
Enviro Warrior
Dream Herald
Esoteric Bookshop
It sounds impersonal, yet close to your heart... I have never been to a funeral... well one of a local polician but noone close... because there is no one... well my father is dying now... but we are not very close anymore... I feel prepared, and yet I know I am not... this is the way of the final curtain as it falls... I would love to talk to the Kindly Man and have a meal with him... what a great conversation you would have if he would oblige with a word or two...
...I enjoyed it a lot...
...thanks for sharing....
Lilla...
Australian Traveller
Flashes of memories
It was a story of gathered bits and pieces. I am sure he would oblige to having a conversation.
Thank you for reading Lilla.
Ash