Renewal of Nero - Love of the Hero

I

It was July the 6th. A Wednesday. On the bed in a hospital, all the eyes were feasted on him. On this 73 year old man lying there. His thinning grey hair was combed in a certain way, that could do nothing but to attract attention. His hair slightly waved to his right shoulder. On the left side of his head a canal from his forehead to the back...the canal of wisdom that now divided his hair, ever so neatly in two parts. He tried to focus on the faces, ladders of life; ages combined...he looked at them, all, one by one. He wanted to force himself to be able to do this. I was there too.

All the lives combined, he thought, are the fruit of love, my love towards my woman, my wife.

He knew that his end was coming. He could feel his lungs aching as they rose slowly, like waves on the rocks and as they, ever so silently, hurried back to the sea. But he was happy. He managed to re-unite all his family in front of him, right beside his death bed - one more time - he did it.

His breath was finding difficulties making all the way up the pipe, to meet the outer air that was dancing outside his body. He was losing the senses slowly. Sadness poured around him, filled the room. But he was happy. He was going to realise his dream...

II

"I, Geoff, take you, Angie, to be my wife, my constant friend, my faithful partner and my love from this day forward. In the presence of God, our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live".

'I can remember it all" he told me, raising his head slightly to look at me. "53 years, 6 months and 14 days passed since that day" he continued. "And I had the privilege to live with her, for 52 years, 2 months and 6 days".

III

Sergeant Geoff Gluding, was one of the World War II heroes. He was one of the master minds on the D-Day, on the 6th June 1944, in Normandy, France. That, was the decisive final straw that the Allies needed to guarantee the victory. And even though everything went as planned, another 11 months had to pass for the war to be finally over.

After doing some research for the book I was writing, I got his contact details and got in touch with him. It was the Monday, the day after his wife's funeral, I remember. I explained to him, in detail my aims and my projects. He agreed to help me and provide me with the last missing pieces of information. The information that I needed.

"I want you to do me a favour" he said though. "I want you to dedicate the book to my wife & me, if possible". I nodded in agreement as if he could see me. I could hear a long pause, then a sigh, as if the person on the other line had trouble to breath. "Many people" he finally said, "asked me many times, throughout the years to give them all the information I know". There was another pause, this time I could sense that he was disappointed by the past actions. "I am agreeing to do this, in order that I will share the knowledge and leave a legacy through your writings, through the book". At that time he did not tell me that he had just lost his wife. Nor he did tell me that he had the funeral the day before. At the time I did not understand that.

We agreed to meet the following Thursday at his house, in Oblubeny Street, in Aberdeen, Scotland. I was to fly specifically for this purpose and I hurried in booking a last minute flight on Ryanair. The power of technology!! Since I was going to give a presentation and I presently was in Carcassone, I was lucky enough to find a cheap flight to Glasgow. Then, it would be about a four hour drive to Aberdeen. But I wanted this.

IV

It was the second time I met him. But now I was in a different room, I was at the hospital. He was finding it difficult to breath. “And that is all" he said, "I hope that I managed to explain myself in a good way, and hope you have enough material to finish the book now". He inhaled the cool breeze that was entering the portico, from the open windows, silently making its way towards where we were sitting. He looked first at the clock. My eyes followed his movements. It was 9.35pm. My God I thought, I have been here for 11 hours. Of course he paused many times, to catch his breath, sometimes treasure hunting for the mask, in need for oxygen. Then he looked at the calendar. It was Monday the 20th of June.

I thought it was over, but it was not. Then he took another breath and started again. This time I could see his eyes shining with more than just happiness. Then he started speaking about Angie. About how they met when she was biking in Kinross and he hit her by accident, with the car as their paths collided. With that, so did their lives and their destiny.

He described everything and in detail. All the reasons why he loved her so much. I stood there, dumbfounded. I was looking at this man that lost his wife a couple of months ago and he was speaking about her, like a teenager does about his first date. I was ready to close my book. But Geoff opened me another book. A book called life...a book called renewal. A book called beautiful after ugly, happy after sad, sunny after rainy.

"Life is a cycle" he said, “We just need to find the right vibration and make the majestic entrance to the appropriate part of it. The part, in which we are most likely to feel what needs to be felt, to think what needs to be thought and to say what needs to be said".

V

His scars from the war were healed by the love of the woman he loved, till death did them part. Another scar resurfaced. His wife was not with him anymore.

"For me she was like the dancing water pouring from the sky like a blessing" he used to tell me every half an hour or so. As if he needed to remind me of that. As if he needed to remind himself of that. "We used to love the rain. We used to run out to the porch. Just to look at the rain falling down".

He sighed again trying to catch a breath, while he was telling me this and pausing. I wasn't sure thoug,h if it was because he needed air or to reshuffle and spindle his memory again.

"Every time, I used to tell her, Angie, you are the rain, this rain as well as the rain of yesterday and all the other rainy days we had before. Since I have known you".

"Why?" she used to taunt him, while looking into his still nice hazel eyes.

“Because you are the blessing that poured into my life like the rain does, suddenly without premonition".

"So you don't see the weather channel" she used to joke in the last couple of years that they shared together.

“I do, I do" he used to smile.

"And like rain", he ended, satisfied he was sharing all this with me. "Like rain she poured blessings every single day of my life, right till the last day".

"That day" he silently said "she held out my hand, just before her heartbeat gave up, touched my hand, looked in my eyes and told me "Geoff, it's raining". There was a sparkle in her eyes. Fading, but it was there. "You were a blessing too, Geoff, but now like rain, I am going down the drain, in a field". She smiled at him before saying, "Please take care of my plants, and cultivate my love".

I could see that he was happy but sad at the same time. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, slightly, to give him the strength & courage he needed to continue.

"She then squeezed my hands, lifted them up to her mouth, kissed them, looked out of the window, as if to invite me to look together, one last time. When I turned my head again, to look at her, she was gone".

He looked to his hands, as if to relive that long gone moment. Then he slowly lowered his head into his hands. I couldn't see if he was crying or not. It was summer and in this part of Scotland, there is a late sunset. His window was facing west. The sun shone on his hands and face, for a light moment, but it was enough for me, to catch a glimpse of that drop from his right eye, as a multi coloured rainbow formed in it. It descended his face, leaving its cliff, his chin and making its final trip in the abyss. Ending in a splash on the ill fated, yellow coloured, squared, black dotted tiles -that adorned this hall for more than half a century - 3 and a half feet below.

VI

Since I was not a member of his family, I was the last one to enter the mortuary room. I was alone. With him. I looked at his pale face.

"Geoff" I said as I grabbed his praying hands that had the rosary on top of them "You were a blessing, and I will cultivate the meaning of what love is, for as long as I shall live".

He was gone but more than the legacy that he left in thousands of books that I had printed and reprinted, he left a legacy in my heart.

VII

Do we need stories to love, to cry with joy or with pain or fear? Do we need to lose our loved ones to realise this? Physically, mentally or mortally? Why are we losing our values? Why are doubts entering our minds? Why are we letting hatred for others conquer? Why aren't we able to forgive? Why at the first we agree to do one thing then at the first storm we try to abandon the destination.

Mind me, I have sinned. Everyone did. I have failed. Everyone did and where I did, I ask for forgiveness. You shall ask for forgiveness. You have to touch the heart of your enemies by showing them your love. You have to touch your enemies, by showing them you are not alike. You have to touch your enemies, by giving them a hand instead of a weapon, a speech instead of a knife, a hope when there is misery. You have to show them the light at the entrance of the cave, where they are keeping you as a captive. Enemies are not only mortals, but also experiences. Live the Love you give. Give the Love you live!!!

Jack
10.1.11