Al's death

This is how it happened on 31st May 2007

I was talking to the hospice counsellor and suddenly felt compelled to be with Al, as though he was calling me. Our family and friends had said their farewells and left, so now it was just me and the man who had been the great love of my life for twelve years, together in this room, a safe space for the dying. Al came round a little and I asked him to squeeze my hand if he could hear me. A strong squeeze came back. I wanted to lie beside him but the bed was too narrow so I lay my head and shoulder on the pillow close to his, our arms touching and hands entwined. I felt glowing, almost weightless, and as I started to talk, the words came from somewhere deep, without conscious thought or effort.

I reviewed our huge love for each other and the charmed times we’d had – going to live in Greece, our wedding on Rhodes, visiting New Orleans, publishing our book about sponge divers, the Frankfurt Book Fair, trips in our little boat, dancing and sleeping under the stars on our secret beach.

“Now”, I said, “we’re starting a new adventure, together but in a different way.” I would pursue my life purpose, try to fly and to live by what I had learned from Al. He would be taking part in my adventures from another world.

I asked him to be with me, to let me feel him in the kitchen, where I would have to do all the cooking, in the garden to help and guide, at the doorway of my study to share what I write, the patient listener with ready encouragement and advice.

It was a still evening of beautiful golden sunlight. My heart was bursting with love and I seemed to see my surroundings through the deep eyes of the soul. “Remember sunsets in Greece?” I asked and described the pine trees and blue sky through the window, just like at Massouri beach with the azure sea beyond.

Al’s breath was heavy and slow, his mouth slightly open, but I knew he was listening, liking what he heard, agreeing to my suggestions and promises, giving me all-embracing, boundless love.

Then, from above and behind his head, I saw a ring of shining angels descending in a bright light, like a brass Christmas candle circle, and I knew it was time for him to go. The space between his breaths lengthened and then the next breath just didn’t come. Without sound or movement, gently he slipped away. To my surprise, I felt bathed in bliss.

For a moment I sat perfectly still, then kissed him on the lips and held him in a hug. Piercing memories of his body as we made love, our spirits soaring together into vast realms of ecstasy. No more. Deep inside my heart was breaking but still I seemed held in this moment of bliss and beauty.

A nurse arrived. I asked her to creep away and leave us alone but begged her to flout the rules and bring me a candle so that I could light it for Al, as we had lit so many candles together in tiny Greek churches, praying for his return to health.

She returned with a small red candle and a lighter and I stepped out on the terrace. The flame burned and flickered, even in the breeze, as though nothing could extinguish Al’s light, and I had a sense of his soul rising into a blue sky streaked with fluffy clouds. The kind of clouds where he always said our guardian angels reclined, watching over us.

Ahead of me was a line of trees - tall with close, dark canopies. Suddenly a large, grey bird flew through their trunks, its slender legs and feet held behind. A heron. Mythical symbol of the love between husband and wife, of regeneration and safe passage to the spirit world. The bird circled, glided back through the trees and soared away into the sky.

I stood in the evening sunlight holding Al’s candle, tears streaming down my face, and sang the whole of Wonderful Tonight, our anthem played on that cheesy piano in a hotel lounge on our wedding night. Then I heard myself speaking as an incantation, giving gratitude for the contentment we’d shared, pledging to grow through grief, agreeing with Mother Nature that for the rest of my life I would always hear the music of Al through birdsong and see his serene smile in the white roses of the hedgerow, simple, wild and free.