Chapter 13

Into The West

27 September 2015

~ The ships have come to carry you home ~ Annie Lennox

When someone we love dies, the reverberation has no expiration date. Adjusting and adapting is an ongoing conversation we have with ourselves and the world around us. Everything might look the same, and yet everything has changed. There are voids that can never be filled, bridges we will never again cross and how we move through all of this, how we transition from being We to I, will be the chore of time.

Nan and Peter's family and close friends arrived, including quite a few people from the local pub. Their musically inclined friends came bearing instruments for a full day of unscripted melody and song.

I took countless photographs, not wanting to forget one single thing. I even managed to capture a few pictures of Sherlock smiling, caught unaware and relaxed. I wonder if the Earth is still spinning on her axis? John looked at ease, too, which was quite a relief. It has not been five months since Mary's death and funerals tend to stir wounds that time has yet to heal. I'm happy that he is well taken care of...the flowing pints of ale seem to add to his comfort.

As the sun began to set, the strands of orb shaped bulbs flickered like starlight against the ebony sky, while a few of Taid's mates lit the bonfire. The time to offer memories and say our farewells had come. Nan and I stood together as stories were shared - some that left us laughing, one or two that caused a ruckus with Taid's mates as to the actual validity of events, and a few that brought us to tears.

When everyone was done, a lonely violinist began playing the song from the movie Titanic. I can't remember the name and it doesn't really matter other than to say it was soft and beautiful.

Now, it was Nan's turn to speak and I will forever be grateful to Meena for filming it on her phone. I write Nan's words, memorializing them in my journal, hoping that one day I might be as fortunate to feel a love free of time and space.

"Immediately following my graduation from Edinburgh Uni - far too many years ago to mention - I came to London for holiday with my best friend, Laura. We'd been invited to a party up in Oxford and it was there I met Peter. He was a young, and very handsome Fellow of biology back then, and filled with endless mischief. If you were ever bored, you could count on Peter to set you on a path of mayhem and legendary fame. There's so much I love about him, but I am certain I loved that part the most.

So, Laura and I were at this party, when I notice Peter heading in my direction. He had this look of determination, where no one, or nothing, had the power to distract him. Instead of introducing himself, he dropped to both knees and proclaimed so loudly that the party fell silent: 'Come, my Goddess, let's be adventurers and meet this world together, naked and trusting of her mysteries!' How could I refuse? I said, 'Yes' and he said 'Really?' I didn't even know his name until the next day. But from that time forward, we spent less than a handful of days apart.

I thought our life together began then, but it's only in seeing things through hindsight that I realized something different. We started long before, becoming ready for each other. Everything we did, every dream, every choice we made, no matter how small led us to that meeting, at that ridiculous party, and I have not one regret.

There was nothing left unsaid between Peter and I, except 'I thought I'd go first.' I should have known better - he was the one with the true spirit of adventure, never afraid to take a road to see where it led. So, now, we'll have a different kind of adventure, where he's there, flying through the clouds, and I'm here. But, I know, we'll meet again. He always said our lives are make-believe, countless stories we tell ourselves about anything and everything. When one story ends, make up a new one and whatever the fuck you do, at least make it fun. A life without passion is rather dull, indeed.

Peter, the love of my life - the love of many lifetimes - Namaarie, Melamin. Tenna' ento lye omenta"

Until John whispered, "What language is she speaking?" I didn't realize he and Sherlock were standing at my side, offering strength and comfort...something I didn't know I wanted until it touched me.

I would have answered had my words not been stifled by tears. It's then I felt you, towering over me, the soft gesture along my back, your hand moving in slow rhythm to soothe my grief, while you answered John in my stead, "Elvish, from Tolkien."

Nan reached out to take my hand, while we all raised our glasses in a final honor to Taid: Namaarie. Tenna' ento lye omenta.

One by one, memories written as prayers, or the last bit of brew, were tossed into the fire as offerings of love and reverence, the smoke drifting to the heavens. Nan and I walked off toward the orchards, moonlight guiding our steps, to leave Taid's ashes in small grotto surrounded by Magnolia trees and viburnum.

I think of Gandalf the White, speaking to a grieving Pippin, as the Elvin ships prepare their journey into the west, taking Frodo with them. One day, Samwise Gamgee will join him for he, too, was a ring bearer.

"No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."

There was never the intention to stay over, but John fell tired and the two hour drive back to London seemed even longer. I gave him the guest room at the top of the stairs and thought Sherlock might like the sleeping room adjoining my father's library. He's stayed in my home enough for me to know what he needs and where he's most content.

I head to bed remembering that the thing I thought I didn't want, turned out to be what I wanted the most. I don't know why Sherlock chose to be here, although I'm grateful he did. There is so much uncertainty in my life it's hard to imagine what's possible. But, maybe, one day, time will heal the wounds between us, too.

Author's notes:

Namaarie, Melamin. Tenna' ento lye omenta - translates to: Farewell, my love. Until We Next Meet

Namaarie. Tenna' ento lye omenta - translates to: Until we next meet.