Heaven On Earth
This morning was beautiful. I lay in bed, the caressing rays of the early morning sun streaming through the patio window. The rays filled our humble abode with warmth, light, joy and happiness in equal measure.
We have our ritual half an hour of cuddling and stroking each other’s arms, shoulders and backs. It has a soothing effect that will last the whole day through and says far more than words ever can.
Beyond the veil of a joyous net curtain, our idyllic reverie is punctuated by the sounds of the world outside setting about its daily business.
Just beyond our small balcony, we hear the hard roll of small wheels and footsteps trundling and patting their way past. My wife calls out “Good morning Grandma.”
We don’t know who she is, but she passes at the same time every morning pushing some nondescript trolley full of nothing. The wizened old lady doesn’t even hear the greeting. She carries along with her business, buried deep in her own little world, oblivious to the world beyond her own thoughts of a history as deep as England and a wonderful life higher than the starstruck moon.
Then the crow perched upon the wire begins to caw his call to his or her mates in the small wooded area across the field. Maybe it’s a crow wife calling her lazy crow husband to get out of bed to go hunting for nutritious worms.
For some spurious reason, I wonder what happens to birds when they die. You see very few dead birds compared to their number. Perhaps they don’t die. Maybe they have discovered the secret of eternal life. Maybe the elixir of immortality is a diet of juicy worms.
My wife gets up to prepare our breakfast, thank god it’s not worms. Toasted, hot buttered, fruit and nut muffins with a light spread of stilton cheese and a drizzle of honey, with a tiny speck of black pepper. A glass of 48 vegetable juice and a foamy cappuccino coffee completes the breaking of the nocturnal fast. It is a breakfast fit for a king, not some noisy, cawing, clunky old crow.
My wife turns on the tv for the early morning news and weather, to listen to whilst she gets ready to go out to work. Monday a typhoon is coming our way. I tell her we can worry about that when it happens. Then we hear that Eddie Van Halen has passed away. A little sadness descends upon us.
We didn’t know Eddie, but it’s always sad to hear that somebody who has given so much joy to the world has left us. Then my wife continues with her business of getting dressed and packing her bag with her sandwich for lunch and whatever other life-saving paraphernalia she feels she might need over the next nine hours.
Suddenly my lovely wife came to give me a hug before she set off for work. And as she draped her arms around my neck she said she was sorry. When I asked her what for she simply said: “I don’t know, maybe it’s….” she was searching for the right words. “…..just in case.” We said in unison. We both laughed out loud as we hugged each other tighter. Geographically and culturally we are from worlds far apart. Amazingly, we are on the same wavelength.
Afterwards, it struck me that this was a really cool thing to do, to say you’re sorry for no particular reason. Maybe, without even without realising it, you have caused offence to your loved one. Maybe it was the news of Eddie’s death that inspired her. You never know the moment. Better get those apologies in whilst you can, just in case.
After my wife had left, I thought about it a little and I realised that saying I am sorry is just another way of saying “I love you.” I love you enough to care about how I might just have hurt you and I want you to know deep in my heart and soul I would be lost without you.
She’s a good woman my wife. To me, she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I hope we both live to be 150 and when our time comes we slip quietly away to the other side snuggling and cuddling in the warming rays of the sun. And I sincerely hope that the angels awaiting us have a hearty breakfast like we had this morning, already set.
The crows can have their eternity and diet of slimey worms, I know which side my bread is buttered and stiltoned. It is a breakfast, a life and a love best described as heavenly. And it is with this thought in mind, death holds no fear for me. I am convinced we will simply pass as elegantly and gracefully as we can, beyond the veil of this world to a vale of serenity and everlasting happiness.
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