Part XXVI

The black plastic receiver felt cool, slippery, and heavy in my hand as I lifted it to my ear and answered. “Hello?”

I barely recognized the woman’s voice on the other end, so dramatically had grief altered its timbre. I listened to her, not quite believing what I was hearing, expected though her news may have been. I answered her questions in monosyllables, and finally mumbled a quick thank you, and a goodbye. Hand trembling, I replaced the receiver in its cradle.

Ronan, alert and watchful at my side, quickly broke the silence. “Sarah, love, what is it?”

I shook my head, unable to speak around the ache in my throat.

The fingers of Ronan’s right hand tapped my arm. “Please, a ghrá. Talk to me!”

It took me a little while, but at last I managed to clear my throat and answered softly: “Hal.”

Ronan’s brow furrowed. “Is it what you’ve been expecting?” he asked, his voice tender with compassion.

I nodded.

“God rest him,” Ronan said fervently. “May his journey go easily.”

I couldn’t even begin to look at Hal’s death in a spiritual light. That required a greater faith than I had ever possessed. Sincere and well-intentioned as Ronan’s statement was, I couldn’t respond to it. In that moment, I simply didn’t know how. “There’s a wake and a funeral to get through,” I said instead. “I have to be there.”

“Of course you do!”

“But I don’t want to be!”

“You don’t mean that, a chuisle.”

One finger prodded my arm, and I felt him falling away from me, back to the pillows.

“Come, now. Lay your head and talk to me.”

I rested my head against the warm comfort of his breast, but found I couldn’t say a word. I could only lie there and weep.

Ronan spoke softly, soothingly, his voice itself a caress. “Ah, but do you not know he’s gone to a better place?”

“Has he?” I managed to ask.

"Indeed. Listen: it says in Revelation that the streets are paved with gold, and the gates made of pearl, and there’s to be no more sorrow, or weeping, or pain. And if we’ve suffered any ill in life, it’s taken away when we come to that holy place.”

I wept harder. “But you’ve only read that in a book, Ronan. You haven’t seen it. How can you possibly know for sure?”

“That’s a good question, but I can’t answer it logically. I’d like to be able to tell you something definite, instead of saying it’s more a matter of me liking the way John the Evangelist wrote. His words paint the most beautiful pictures in my mind, but maybe the streets aren’t paved with gold, nor the gates made of pearl. Maybe those words were as close as John could get to the full grandeur of it, in simple human terms. A concept mortal folk could grasp, or else a—a sort of rough sketch of the real thing, if you will. Something beautiful to ponder in a time like this, to make the loss a bit more bearable. Imagine what Hal must be seeing and doing right now!”

I was too thoroughly consumed by sorrow and guilty feelings to consider that perspective. “That doesn’t matter. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I should have been with him.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Of course, it matters! How can a person bear the loss without a vision of the hereafter? And Sarah, do you really believe it would have meant anything to him, in his condition, if you had been there to witness the drawing of that last breath? You were with him when it counted most: in life, loving him and bringing him joy in the time before his illness. Now death of the body has shattered the last fetter binding the spirit. Hal’s is free to go its way now, so wish him Godspeed on his journey, and if you need to shed some tears, that’s right and natural. You loved him, and he was an important part of your life for a long time. But don’t shackle both your souls by mourning the loss forever. Grieve sincerely but briefly, and then move on, and let Hal move on. Cherish your good memories, and honor him by living your life in the most fulfilling way possible. Though I never knew him myself, except for what you’ve told me about him, I’m almost willing to bet that’s what he’d want you to do. And I’m not saying that for any benefit I might garner if you take my advice. No. I just want to see you do what’s best for yourself.”

My grief was abating as Ronan spoke. What he had said made good sense, even if I wasn’t sure about his musings on Heaven.

As if he had plucked that thought from my head, he spoke again, this time with difficulty as he sought to find words to express the inexpressible. “Sarah, when I was so desperately ill all those years ago—well, you’re aware, aren’t you, that I ran some awfully high fevers?”

I nodded, remembering the magazine article I had found so distressing. Fever, it had said. Convulsions. Coma.

“So many times in those first few weeks, Sarah, I didn’t know if I was alive or dead. There were times when my whole body felt engulfed in flames, and I know I was delirious more than once, but there were moments of respite, and in those moments, I—saw things that reassured me and gave me hope. Maybe those visions were just hallucinations, but—I don’t think so. And words—fail me. I can’t describe exactly what I saw, but—cuisle mo chroi, by all I hold holy, I swear to you that it’s there. It’s there and I had a glimpse of it, and yes, it was grander than mere words can tell. For what that’s worth to you or anyone else.” He laid his cheek against the top of my head, and I tightened my arms around him. “If you want me to, a chuisle, I’ll go with you to the wake and the funeral. Moral support, y’know?”

“It’s kind of you to offer, Ronan, but I think it would be too hard on you, especially when you haven’t left the house at all since you got out of the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

I wasn’t so sure about that. “Ro, it’s not a matter of us having to go out for a few hours. Hal’s family lives near Hartford. It’s enough of a hike that I’d be inclined to book a hotel room for a few days, just so I wouldn’t have to travel back and forth.”

“I’m no stranger to hotel rooms, a ghrá.”

“I know that, but Ro, do you really think you’re up to it? There’ll be a lot of standing around and socializing at the calling hours, and after the funeral. You’ll have to get dressed up, and even if you had brought a suit from home, I doubt you could get into it with your arms like that.”

“Probably not, but I could still dress decently. I do have a good shirt and trousers, and with a tie and my pullover I’d do well enough. I know that’s not quite up to funeral protocol, but once people knew about my arms, I think they’d understand why my wardrobe options are limited.”

Ronan had his mind made up: that much was clear. All I could do now was lay out my worst fear for his consideration.

“Ro, I’d love to have you come with me, but don’t you think it might be a bit awkward? I mean, you’d be the new man in my life coming along to say farewell to the old one. People might not be terribly friendly.”

“I’m not afraid of that. I’m not going for their sakes, or even for Hal’s. I’m going for you, so I can be there if you need me.”

I sat up and kissed him gently, then leaned over and blew out the candle. “That means a lot to me, Ro. It really does, but I’ve got to think about it. Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“Of course, a chuisle. And whatever you decide—it’s all right with me, just so you do what you think is best.”

***

When the time came, I found that I couldn’t even imagine leaving Ronan behind. He was such a part of my life now, just the thought of attending the funeral without him seemed wrong. I was so accustomed to the routine of helping him with everything, it wasn’t any strain to carry on with that over the course of a few days in a hotel room, a funeral home, and a church. Hal’s family was more gracious to him than I had dared to hope. In every instance, he was welcomed warmly and encouraged to stay beside me, and soon there was no doubt in my mind that they would have accepted him no matter what his attire.

Ronan, for his part, was as eminently likeable as ever. His accent and pleasant demeanor drew people to him, and he never lacked opportunities for conversation. Throughout the entire three days, no matter how many times we assured Hal’s friends and relatives that Ronan and I were just close friends, every single one of them smiled in response, their twinkling eyes telling me they knew otherwise. Even Hal’s sister, whom I’d fully expected to disapprove, took me aside before all was said and done.

The collation was nearing its end, and Ronan was chatting with one of the church musicians when Lynne beckoned to me. I caught his eye and signalled that I was leaving for a few minutes. He nodded, assuring me he’d be fine in my absence, and I followed Lynne down the short hallway connecting the reception hall to the church.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I began nervously, as we entered the cool, quiet room.

“No, you don’t,” she retorted, smiling as she took my arm and pulled me into a pew, and made me sit beside her. “Sarah, I just had to tell you—Hal would have loved Liam! So, if you’re not having a serious relationship with the man, then damn, girl! Get working on it! If he’s this good to you now, just imagine what he could be like after his arms have healed!”

I didn’t have to imagine; I knew.

“Well,” I confessed, “we are having a relationship. We’ve just downplayed it so we wouldn’t offend anyone. I mean, doesn’t it seem sort of cold for me to show up here with a new man in tow?”

“Not at all! Look, Sarah: Hal’s been gone a long, long time. Everything that made him the man he was departed when he had that stroke. We mourned then, all of us. Now, as he would have said, we’re closing a chapter.”

“Moving on,” I whispered. “Carpe diem.”

“How about carpe Liam? That sounds like a better idea to me.”

I laughed. “That’s the sort of pun Hal would have made.”

“I know. Why do you think I said it?” She hugged me. “Liam’s a lovely man, and you suit each other well. I wish you every happiness, Sarah, and don’t you forget to call me when you’ve set a date, so I can come dance at your wedding.”

“Oh, Lynne, I hardly think—”

She touched her finger to my lips to silence me. “You aren’t able to see how the two of you look at each other, but I am, and I’ve been watching. You’ve both done a heroic job of being discreet these last few days, but the sparks still fly between you. It was intense enough over the years, watching you and Hal, but this—! Sarah, if I’m not invited to a wedding within the next six months, I’ll be surprised—and disappointed!”

I didn’t dare hope that Ronan had such serious intentions, even though it wasn’t the first time someone had suggested it. I thought briefly of Mary Phelan saying the same thing, albeit with different words, on the fine September day when we had taken Rory out to the Public Garden. If Ronan had ever dropped the slightest hint in the subsequent weeks, I might have responded to Lynne a bit more positively. As it was, I put all thoughts of Ronan’s possible intentions out of my head and responded rather flatly. “Well, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. Intentions or no intentions, once he’s out of his casts, he’ll have to go back to New Zealand.”

“Maybe so, but when he does go, you’ll be with him.”

It was a nice idea, but I doubted it would ever come to pass. More likely, we would get together a couple of times a year, or maybe only once a year, taking turns visiting each other, and thus continuing a comfortable relationship without fretting about marriage and emigration. “You’ll be among the first to know if you’re right or not, but speaking of Liam, I shouldn’t have left him for so long. Honestly, he can’t do much of anything without my help.”

“I know. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted to catch up with you privately.”

Before I could reply, I heard a familiar voice calling my name. “We’re in the church,” I answered.

Ronan appeared in the doorway. “Och! I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”

“It’s all right, Liam. You remember Hal’s sister, Lynne?”

“We were introduced, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk at all. I’m sorry to interrupt, but it looks as if things are winding down, and I thought I’d best come and let you know.”

“Thanks. I do have a few more people to talk to.”

“Me, too,” Lynne agreed. “Listen: you’re both more than welcome to come back to the house for a bit afterwards. There’s plenty of food left over, and I’d be happy to make coffee.”

“That would be nice, Lynne, but maybe some other time. Liam’s had enough for one day, I think.”

He nodded. “Many thanks for the invitation, but I’ve done more in the last three days than I’ve done in a month. I’m exhausted.”

“I think I would be, too. It was awfully good of you to come in spite of everything. I hope your arms heal quickly.”

“Thank you, and once again, Lynne—my condolences. I know all too well how hard it is to lose someone so dear to you.”

Lynne nodded. “Even though what I said to Sarah is true—that Hal’s been gone for a long time now, despite his body lingering on—it’s so hard to let go. For three years we’ve been visiting him several times a week, looking for a glimmer of hope. Wishing that he might come out of the coma someday. There’s no chance of it now. That time is done. I’ll miss him,” she concluded simply, her voice gone quiet.

“He’ll be all right,” Ronan said earnestly, “and you will be, too. There’s another angel keeping watch over you now. It may be hard to remember that at first, but in time—”

“Yes,” Lynne agreed. She put her hand on his shoulder gently and pecked his cheek. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“I thought you might,” he said, and leaned close to return the kiss. “Take heart and keep the faith.”

“I will. Thank you.”

We waited a bit while Lynne regained her composure, then returned to the church hall to say our last round of goodbyes. When it was finally over and the last of the guests had gone, Ronan and I bid farewell to the family, then went out to the car. I helped him get in and drove us back to our hotel.

***

C.P. Warner
© 16 November 2007

NEXT

Irish Gaelic Reference Page