The November sun creeped over the horizon, dawning on a still, cold, tableau of a small town in Prince Edward Island called Glen St. Mary. The newborn rays of the sun crept past a stately lighthouse, a wee beloved cottage surrounded by beautiful trees that protected a tiny grave, and over a manse on a hill that was still filled with a second generation of Merediths, every bit as rambunctious as the last generation. The sun finally settled on a large house next to a valley filled with trees that seemed to hold the memories of laughter of many children. This morning, for the first time in over fifty years, not a single bird made a sound as the sun rose. There was no one around to realize this, and its significance would never be known to those who had grown there and lived within the nearly magical woods. A haunting silence surrounded Ingleside, a house that had been home to many over the course of its life, but for the last 7 years had housed just two. The silence outside seemed to have penetrated the walls of the house and hung heavily over the couple inside.
Gilbert Blythe, who had passed his 87th birthday, was wide awake in his bedroom inside. He had not slept the entire night. He had been worried about Anne for about a while, the clear grey eyes he had fallen in love with had long since turned cloudy and she was becoming weaker in her old age. She had had a cough she couldn't shake for more than a week, no matter what he gave her to treat it. That night, she had made him dinner like usual but hadn't eaten any of it. Instead she had sleepily looked at her husband to tell him she was tired and Gilbert had gotten a sinking feeling in his gut. Her breathing had gotten more and more laboured as the night went on and Gilbert had done his best to treat her until, at around 3:30 in the morning (though neither of them knew it or cared). Anne had looked at Gilbert with the clearest eyes he had seen in years, placed a soft, wrinkled hand on Gilberts cheek, and whispered "Gilbert Blythe, you have made me the happiest woman in the world.". They had stared at each other for a long moment before Anne slowly closed her eyes and Gilbert stopped fighting. He had then climbed into bed and cradled his small, fragile wife to his chest, and felt every single one of her heartbeats and laboured breaths. He rested his chin on silver hair that bore the slightest tint of red and remained like that until his own, beloved, adored wife took her last breath almost an hour later. He had felt her heart come to a stop but could not bring himself to move. And that is where the sun found him.
He had been staring at the ceiling, dry-eyed, for more than two hours but he did not realize it. His heart was beating normally and he was waiting for the overwhelming sorrow to wash over him. But the sorrow never came. The doctor had seen a lot of death and had expectations for what he would feel when his sweet Anne finally left him but he was surprised to discover that instead of overwhelming sorrow, his heart was overflowing with gratitude. The honey of a life well lived sweetened the bitter cup of death for Gilbert.
As he laid in the same bed that he had shared for over fifty years with the love of his life he was in complete awe of everything he and Anne had shared. Their small family of two had grown to a tribe of seven children, nineteen grandchildren and now 11 greatgrandchildren. Of course they had shared heartache; with a twinge of pain Gilbert recalled Joyce, Walter, and young James, the grandson they had lost in the battle of Dieppe. Within their pain they had always depended on each other and their bonds had been strengthened through their sorrow and pain. But there had definitely been a lot of joy as well. As he lay there, memory after memory seemed to float in front of his eyes. Walks along lover's lane in Avonlea, Anne reciting the highway man at Whitesands, dancing together at Redmond, the day Anne promised to marry him, watching Anne chase a troublesome Jersey cow through a field, Anne holding small Jem for the first time, the look on her face as she promised to love him forever on their wedding day, holding hands as Nan became a Meredith, laying on their bed howling with laughter after hearing the story of Rilla being chased by a Mary with a fish.
He let out a strange- nearly hysterical – chuckle as the image of fiery gray eyes right before a crack on his head suddenly burst through his thoughts. This form of grief was unfamiliar to a doctor who had seen the deaths of hundreds of people over his long career. He pulled the body of his beloved closer to him and breathed in the scent that had always lingered in her hair.
She was always apple trees and delight. She was a fire on a cold night and walking along the beach in spring. She was the first snowfall and poetry made life. She was laugh-crying and everything he had ever wanted.
There. Finally came the catch in his throat. She was his home. This cold body in his arms was his home. And with a prophetic finality that a young Dr. Blythe would have scoffed at, Gilbert knew that, without her, he was not long for this world.
What a blessed life they had lived. How wonderful is it to walk through life, hand in hand, sharing every moment- good and bad he thought to himself.
"I've chased you before, my love" the old doctor whispered into the silver hair of his darling wife. "I'm coming for you my prize, my own sweet Anne-girl" and with that the old man closed his hazel eyes, never to twinkle again on this earth, and breathed his last. Only the November sun and the silent guard of birds holding vigil outside the couples' window witnessed the change that came over the room as Death finally claimed the last soul in Ingleside
It is the birthright of those of the Race That Knows Joseph, those who have drunk deeply of the cup of life and have given as much as they've received, to greet death as a friend. Gilbert and Anne, though old, wrinkled, and having lost the beauty of their youth years before, were transformed in their death. They wore death like crowns; the memories of every laugh, every joy, and a life lived in profound peace and love etched across their faces.
Since the beginning of the world there have been many a sorrowful and tragic death, the deaths of the Dr. and Mrs. Blythe could not be counted among those. Even their children, grand-children, and great-grandchildren, in mourning though they were, could not help but smile in fond memory of their beloved grandparents as Jem, the greying leader of the Blythe clan, raised his glass where the whole family gathered to toast the following night "To Anne and Gilbert. To their shared history, destiny, and now eternity. Together forever."