The sun was low on the horizon as I drove westward, making it difficult to see on-coming cars or the road. I focused on the edge of the pavement on the passenger side and slowed as I drove. It was a stressful way to end a difficult time.
I was returning from Mount Pearl, Newfoundland to my home in Buchans after my father's death. I spent a week with Mom and my brother after Dad died, helping Mom do a few of the deathly details you don't think about as you accompany a loved one to the end. Although glad to be going home to my husband and daughter, I was heart broken. I could only imagine what my mother and brother felt and I was not there to share it.
The last time I saw Dad was two days before his death. We didn't realize how close he was to the end, never having seen a death from cancer. Dad had beautiful brown eyes, the windows to his patient, kind soul. Those eyes were all that looked familiar; Dad was swollen, barely conscious. He still could speak and we parted after loving goodbyes. "His spirit is eager to leave now," I said to myself as I gazed into those eyes that day.
There was a moment on that journey home when a straight stretch of highway to a hill lay before me. The sun was behind the hill now and a brilliant sunset was imminent, with flaming colours. The road appeared to come to a point in the flames and I thought of that gentle spirit soaring now, free of pain. I felt it as Dad's way of saying he was at peace.
Several days ago, on a walk by the bay, I took this picture which I didn't really see until I downloaded it to my iPad.
It startled me at first. I realized it connected me to that previous experience, how the bridge disappears into the air, even though it connects to the land on the far side. Unseen though it is, we know it is there.
Who knows what is to come? But, every now and then, life has a way of reminding me of the faith of my youth and it is comforting. Maybe that is all it is meant to be, comfort in the face of the eternal nothingness. Or maybe...