Swan Song

Swan Song

His grieving will soon be at an end; grieving that has lasted
thirty-eight years and has represented the best part of a lifetime. But
the end of his grieving will in itself be a reason for celebration: for
he will see her again.

He lies now in his hospital bed, surrounded by his family with his weak
and frail body nearing the end of its long journey. He looks around at
his children and grandchildren. They are all good people. He loves them
very much and will miss them dearly but he is not afraid to die; not
afraid to go the place where his body will no longer ache and where he
will once again be with her. On thinking this he remembers a line from
the film Gladiator. When asked by a fellow gladiator if he believes he
will ever see his dead wife and son again Maximus replies "Yes, but not
yet." That has been his feeling for the best part of forty years and
soon his wish will be realised. If not exactly made flesh and blood, at
least made spirit and soul. He wonders now if she will have changed.
Will she appear older, as if she had aged in parallel with his
existence on earth or will she be as she was the day she left him all
those years ago? If it is to be the latter will she recognise him, or
will he return to her as the incarnation of a younger man?

He turns his gaze and catches the eye of his daughter. Each day she
grows more like her mother and sometimes it breaks his heart to look at
her. She, of course, never knew her mother and he sometimes believes
that God has punished him for committing some unknown sin by having her
grow up to look so like his wife. There are the same high cheekbones,
the same pale, flawless complexion and the same thick dark hair. The
only difference is in the colour and hue of the eyes. She possesses his
brown eyes, not her mother's blue and for this he thanks God. He thanks
God because it means that she had been too special to Him to replicate
exactly. A close copy, yes. An exact copy, no.

He reaches out his hand to touch his daughter's cheek.
"You look so much like your mother," he tells her through dry and
broken lips.
"Was she very beautiful?" his daughter asks. He fumbles with his other
hand and picks up a small shaving mirror from the bedside cabinet. He
holds it up in front of his daughters face and asks: "What do you
think?"
His daughter's cheeks redden slightly and as she grips his hand tightly
she turns her head so that her lips brush it lightly.

Behind her stand his son and his wife. His son is a big, tall, strong
man. Shortly he will be a have to be even bigger and stronger for he
will have to be a big, tall, strong man shouldering big
responsibilities. He waves his hand and his son approaches the bed. He
has so many things he wants to say to his children but there isn't the
time now. Something unseen is pulling him and he realises that his time
is close.
"What is it Dad?" asks his son.
"There's so much I want to say to you both," he whispers. "But there
isn't the time. I want you both to know that I love you and am proud of
you. There hasn't been a day in your lives that I haven't thought those
two things. Have a good life."
His daughter is crying now and there is moisture in the eyes of his
son.
"Don't go, Dad," says his daughter, sniffing through her tears.
"I have to", he says. "It's my time. Besides, your mother's expecting
me."
His children smile at this last comment which pleases him because
that's the last image he has of his life on earth.

* * *

The pond is quite still, reflecting the watery winter sun that lies
just above the horizon. He cannot tell if it's sunrise or sunset that
is approaching. Occasionally a slight breeze ripples water and causes
the reeds in which he is sheltering to wave gently. Behind him he hears
the sound of a bird and turning in the direction from which it came he
watches as the swan swims gracefully towards him, moving its long,
slender neck in a signal that urges him to follow. He's finding it
difficult to get used to his new form but as the other bird flaps its
wings and begins to rise from the water he knows instinctively what he
has to do in order to follow it. As they leave the pond below them and
begin to rise into the air he takes the opportunity to look at the bird
flying alongside. From the arch of the neck and the beauty contained
within he knows it's her; just like he knows it would have been her
choice for them to inhabit this form and for just a split second he
wonders why. Then as if filled with a heavenly light he remembers
something she had once told him, many years ago when there had just
been the two of them: swans mate for life.