Angels Walk Among Us

This morning I saw a forlorn-looking woman walking along the path ahead of me. In her right hand she carried a white lily, which she clutched to her chest. Our paths crossed, and she spoke to me.


She told me she was Maltese, but had lived in Italy for a time before she came to England. She told me of the loss of her two brothers and her husband within the space of three years, and that she was sad to be alone now in the house she shared with her husband for many years.


It was here that our paths went separate ways. Mine was to continue along the tarmac straight, and her path was into the woods.


As we parted, she asked my name, and told me hers. And then with her last words to me, Clothilde provoked a thought which stays with me now.


What if angels walk among us? What if Clothilde came into my life ever so briefly to remind me that those who I have lost are gone from me because they must now show others the way?  What if the reason some people must leave us after only a short time is that they must continue on their journeys through the lives of so many others, touching their hearts as they pass by?


"Perhaps fate has put us on the same path together, even if only for a short while."

My Resurrection

I'm beginning to come back to life.


Every step I take is agony. Every moment drags on. Every breath without him is yet laboured. Him. Even now I cannot, by my lips or by the ink of my pen, form their names; those who are a part of my tragic story.


The tears come less and less, but the pain remains the same. Perhaps it is only that I now begin to discover within myself the strength of which he has spoken so often. Perhaps he was right all along. Of us all, I am the strongest. He has certainly not the strength I saw inside of him before, that the words once said to him in cold heart and empty soul must be left unsaid to me even in love.


But he is lost to me now, and must remain so. For the love of all the hearts entangled in this, I must consider him dead. And I am resurrected.
........................................................................................................


I was told once that when you part with someone, the parting in itself is a death, and must be mourned as such. And that is what I've done. Prior to my relationship with this man, my life had seemed so desolate of anything!


In our last few days together, he recited from memory the chapter Of Beren and Lúthien from Tolkien's The Silmarillion. I then purchased to volume, having read The Lord of the Rings several years previously, and turned each page lovingly. He had returned to me my love of reading, of writing, and of discussing the two.


And so after careful research and much deliberation, I joined BCF, which can be found here . BCF stands for Book Club Forum. After only a couple of weeks I feel right at home. I have had light discussion, amusing banter, and heated debate. Everyone has a very mature attitude and are friendly and approachable. I have even found myself offering critiques on pieces in the Writer's Corner, and am now building the courage to share some of my own work with others.


For months I've had this blog, and patiently it's waited, like a blank page. Now at last I've found the inspiration to read, write and ramble!