“What happens after death?”
she asked one Sunday, her long, thin body,
stretched weakly across the settee, her cousin,
balancing his dinner plate at her feet.
Sundays they came together – all the family –
for Grandmother’s dinners – the warm waft
of fresh-baked pies, the clank of dishes,
and voices raised over the old farm table.
He shrugged, knowing it was an ongoing
concern – she’d been frail from birth,
this girl he loved – two years younger,
but in every way his peer – said nothing.
“Let’s make a pact,” she blurted with sudden
fervour. “The first to die will leave a sign.”
“Grandpa’s bells!” They shook on it, and
then with a satisfied grin, she fell asleep.
A more sombre clan gathered mid-week,
eyes red and faces pale with the shock
of loss – no smells of warmth to greet them,
just cold platters prepared by church ladies.
Slumped bodies, heads leaning close,
sipped tea on the place where she’d lain,
that last day – no sound of children’s
laughter, just a hole too hard to bear.
And when the sound came, metal
clanging on metal ringing a joyous
clamour, she was the first to see –
Grandpa’s bells stirring – her sign!
She knew then that he’d be waiting –
told me so before that last breath,
and as I watched her go, I swear
I could hear the far off ringing of bells.
(Bjorn is hosting at dVerse tonight and challenges to write narrative poetry. This story of the pact was told to me by my cousin Caroline before she died. The bells were not as pictured here, but were sleigh bells her Grandfather kept hanging inside the back door.)
Bells are a lovely sign. I’ve had many people tell me of birds. (K)
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Seems there is always a sign
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I like how you contrasted Sunday comforts with mid-week’s bereavement…and the calm of the one dying compared to the shocked grief of those left behind.
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Thanks Lynn
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Oh man… It’s awfully dusty here in my den. This is poignant and well-crafted.
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Ha ha…thank you, Just Barry. Tried to visit but couldn’t reach you.
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That’s weird. Try this link.
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This link worked. wordpress has you linked up to mylibidowearsatuxedo – which doesn’t work.
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Thanks for letting me know. I had a domain change earlier this year. I’ll re-check my settings.
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Hate to think people are missing your blog over it.
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Love the pact made, and the symbol of the ringing bells. Lovely.
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Thanks. It’s a story that will be passed down, for sure.
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What a lovely “for whom the bells toll” story, gentle and sweet. Thank you.
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Thanks, Beverly.
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So well penned – and paced – and there is a trace of Emily Dickinson in the last stanza too.
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Well, that is quite the compliment. Thank you so much.
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Love overcomes all.
Your details came together to bring this to life for me.
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Thanks Ali.
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I like how you tied the legend together, the early passing and those bells… I feel that despite the sadness it said that all was well… as if she made it safely to the other side.
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She had great faith, and was a mentor to me. Her death was so peaceful, I have to believe she found her way. Thanks for your thoughts, Bjorn.
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The sound of the bells replaced for a moment that hole where children’s laughter once was. I’m so grateful that we are given these gifts that transcend time and space but not love. Touching story.
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What a lovely take – ringing replacing laughter. Thanks for that.
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A heartwarming story, V.J. I often smell my grandmother’s lily of the valley scent. We all need a sign every now and then.
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We sure do, Kim!
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Wow, that gave me goosebumps, thanks
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Glad to oblige…
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when we love so deeply – that love transcends all manner of convention – and the bells were such a sweet promise to keep – loved this for the hope you have given me
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Thanks Gina – glad I could inspire hope.
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A very sweet story poem. I loved the sentiments and the bells that rang.
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Thanks, Dwight. Enjoyed this exercise
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Poetic stories are great!
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Tender story well told.
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Thanks, Jazz
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Lovely! There is always a sign. I really enjoyed this 🙂
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Thanks, Christine
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A beautiful story.
“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in” Leonard Cohen…
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Oh, thanks for the Cohen. Cheers.
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Always my pleasure.
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I am glad those bells rang.
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Thanks Frank.
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Beautifully penned. The sadness of passing lifting the spirit in the ringing of those bells.
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A legend in our family…thanks.
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That’s awesome. I’ve heard of people’s spirits coming back as butterflies to let loved ones know they have passed over without issue. My mom died in November (many years ago) and while her casket sat on the stand, awaiting interment, a butterfly pitched on her picture and stayed there until we wheeled the casket outside. It gave us all cold shivers but made us feel good at the same time.
Oh, and you’re welcome!
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These signs bring such comfort.
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Yes, they certainly do.
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