Lying there in bed, with my love seated at my side, feeling the warmth of his presence, and allowing it to warm my soul, left me with a contented feeling. Although the cold, white walls of that sterile environment surrounded me, the awareness of his love and his commitment to me was enough to carry me through.
I had come full circle from the girl I was back in the fifth grade. That little girl did not understand that there was more to a person than what seemed to be on the surface. She took everything at face value. She believed her heart, and her head, both worked in the same way, and they would never lead her astray. Little did she know the heart does not think or reason, it acts completely on emotion, and emotions can sometimes be deceiving. She did not understand the mind could set itself on something, and have trouble changing directions.
Heartache initiates a journey toward understanding, and leads to a point of reflection. It was reflection which opened my eyes to the love and dedication waiting to be discovered in Jonathon Berkley Newburn. And the joy accompanying the discovery was greater than anything I had imagined up to that point. I could wish for no other with whom to share the beautiful moments of my life, and words cannot express the depth of my love for him. I shall always love him dearly, of that I am sure. Nothing can change that, neither life nor death, neither time nor the absence of time, neither distance nor dimension.
It was because of the love I feel for him, I found it so difficult to let go. However, because of the faith I have in our love, I know we will be forever bound together. Despite the boundaries which may divide us, we will continue to love, far beyond the limits of this world.
It was hard leaving him like that, with no time for good-byes, no kiss, not even a quiet moment in which to share solitude. I knew there would come a time when we would be separated, but I suppose I always believed there would be time for goodbyes. One simply never knows, however, when the Father of all time may call, and we are compelled to break free of the bonds which bind us to this earth.
I felt the clot as it stabbed into my chest, a quick, sudden feeling of pain, and then nothing. I know it was probably better that way, because if it hadn’t happened suddenly, I would have fought to stay with him, just as relentlessly as they fought to bring me back. It was too quick, and too massive. I couldn’t go back.
As I looked around the room, my gaze settled on his face, and I could feel his pain as the monitor delivered its piercing sound. The empty ache in his chest, the hollow hunger in his stomach; I felt it all. I saw his face as the muscles drew tight, and his eyes as the tears began rolling slowly down his cheeks, the realization making its way deeper into his consciousness. I saw his fist clench, and then he slowly reached for my unresponsive hand. I wanted to shout, “I’m okay,” but of course he would not have heard.
I was amazed by the intensity of his emotions, and the clarity with which I could feel them. Though we knew each other so well, I have never felt as close to him as I did at that moment. For just that instant, we were one, totally and completely. And I was given a glimpse of how it might be when we have both completed our journeys.
Then it was time for the final phase of my journey to begin. I felt myself moving away from him. His image grew more and more distant, yet the closeness lingered. I felt myself being drawn further and further away, his image growing smaller, and smaller, as my view expanded. All the while, I could still feel what he felt, the pain, the agony, and the emptiness. And just when I thought I would not be able to bear the feelings of sorrow which sought to consume him, the very essence of my mind, the totality of my being, my very soul, began to swell, to grow, to know, far beyond what my fleshly shell could have contained. Like a drop of oil spreading out across the surface of the water, I grew to become more than I ever could have been.
As if imparted with some kind of new spiritual understanding, I began to see the images of his future. Seeing first a life without my presence, pain and sorrow spilling from his heart; I was reminded all things shall pass. As the images moved by me and through me, floating by like the clouds, engulfing me like a mist, enchanting me like a dream, I was filled with deep, rich emotions. At first it was wrenching… aching… feeling the longing, the emptiness, and the vacuum which had suddenly taken control of his heart. Then, gradually, the feelings of emptiness and grief were replaced with new emotions. Soon I could feel the stirring of memories; fleeting moments of happiness mixed with the hopeless thoughts that there would be no more. Finally, as my image of him faded, there were feelings of understanding, appreciation for what was, and love. Oh, thank you for leaving him with my love.
Somehow, (and I do not yet know the details of how these things work, although I have faith I will soon enter a realm in which all will be explained) I knew what I was being shown both in image and in emotion, were the stages he would go through after my passing. For him the passing of time would occur much more slowly. The process of regaining some sense of happiness would require time, and thought, and prayer, but for me there was the understanding that he would be okay, and I would be okay… and it was okay to let go.
I have now settled into this peacefulness which has surrounded me. It is warm and inviting. It is pure and untainted. All care seems to float away to be replaced completely by love. The thoughts and memories of a lifetime remain, but concern, worry, and pain have been left far behind. My soul travels in such a way as to tell me that time and place will soon have no meaning. Therefore, I must conclude while there is yet still time, time in which to deliver my story.
So here you have it. This collection of words, these experiences of the heart, this love for another, this is my story…it is his story…it is our story. It is a sliver of time, a page of history, and a drop in the waters of the universe. How do you know what I know? How is it that you can feel what I feel? Deep inside you are touched by my words; your heart shares the joys and the pains; yet, you are unsure what you’ve felt is real. How can you hear my voice if I am not there to speak?
You have heard my voice carried in whispers upon the wind. As I leave this earthly plain and journey toward eternity, I tell the wind my tale. The secrets of my soul are broken open, and scattered about, much like the seeds of a dandelion which have been cast about by the breath of a child. And just as the seeds, my story travels; ever seeking fertile ground in which to grow. To the heart that is open, the wind whispers. Only those who listen will hear what the wind has to say. They will hear my voice.
My story is one of a battle fought, and lost, and won. A fight against nature, against forces that were put in place, and must remain in place, though neither I nor anyone else may choose to recognize it. This battle against things of this earth, I have lost. My strength weakened, and I could no longer attack or defend. I was at the mercy of the enemy, and no mercy was shown. I am not ashamed of my failure; it is one we all share.
Yet, in the shadow of failure, there was victory. I am triumphant, for now I can clearly see there were two battles rather than one, and to gain the ultimate victory, the first must be lost. My faith remained solid, even in defeat, and I step forward to receive my prize, a life above life.
I cast forth upon the winds of time a message…a message that warns of wanting something so intensely you become unaware of things which are much more significant; a message which reminds the spirit to stay true, for even the most tragic events may lead to joyous blessings beyond human imagination; a message which serves to reassure the weary that though “happily forever after” seems to be meant only for fairy tales, there is a place where it really does come true.
And now, I must continue my journey. My soul must travel on toward eternity. I know not if I will pause in my journey, to sleep, to wait on some great awakening, or if I shall be gathered quickly with others who have gone on before me. These things are not of my determination, but are of His.
I do know, however, that though I go on, my story will remain, just as does the story of others before me. It will continue to be whispered, and it will continue to be
heard. In the hushed sway of the wheat fields, through the clattering leaves of the treetops, across the streams, following the crevices of the valleys, and blowing above the rocky summits; it goes on and on, stopping only where the ground is fertile and rich.
My voice cannot be heard by human ears; it can only be heard by the heart. It has been heard by your heart; that’s how you know it is real. You have heard because you paused to listen to the whispers in the wind.
About the Author
C. E. Lemieux, Jr. is the author of Whispers in the Wind and Loving Deacon. He writes bittersweet stories which are meant to touch the heart and tweak emotions. He enjoys reading fiction and descriptive writing. Although he is a self-professed news junkie, he has a tendency to stray from non-fiction unless it is for the purpose of research.
C. E. is a fan of baseball, high school sports, fishing, and camping. He and his wife, Julie, have four children and have been married for twenty-five years. They make their home in Oklahoma where several of his stories are set.
Visit https://lemieuxbooks.com or contact
[email protected] He would love to hear your comments. Printed versions can be purchased on various online bookselling websites or from https://lemieuxbooks.com
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