The flight to Melbourne was on time. Joe boarded almost mechanically. The plane taxied, took off and was soon soaring like a giant eagle on its way. As the miles melted away, Joe began to question himself – is this such a good idea? It was his own idea. And it had to be now – back to parish work in western NSW next week. Once he would have looked forward to this visit, trying to bring the past into the present, and wallowing in his own pain and despair. Now it was different. He had faced what he really knew but would not accept before – the past was over, could never return. Repercussions could surface, yes, special memories, yes, but the actual past, no.
Almost mechanically he mounted and exited bus and tram. The cemetery lay before him – a green field covered in hundreds of crosses and emblems commemorating moments in time. As though in a trance he moved slowly down the road, turned at the intersection and continued down the next road flanked by tall oak trees. Toward the end of the road, in a quiet cul-de-sac, he knelt beside the grave, of which he had dreamed for so many months.
For some time he remained there, kneeling, hardly moving. He neither felt the warmth of the soft green grass on which he knelt, nor saw the distant purple hills at which he was staring.
The laugh of a kookaburra as it rested on a nearby tree, shook him out of his trance.
He looked down at the pen and paper he had taken from his pocket.
“Yes. I must do it,” he whispered.
Dearest Nae,
and then the pen stopped as his body stiffened. “Oh, Nae!” he almost shouted. The kookaburra stopped laughing. Silence hung heavily.
Moments later he picked up the pen and continued.
At last I have accepted that our relationship on earth is over. But I still love you deeply and… I need you.
Once again he let the pen fall as his body heaved. “I need you. I love you,” he continued to whisper between sobs.
Later – how much later he did not know – he picked up the pen and continued.
Nae, thank you for your love and friendship, for the wonderful times – all too short – that we shared. Now you are gone and we will never meet again in this life. I am letting you go, my dearest Nae – you are free. Wherever you are, wherever you go, be happy and at peace. God hold you close. I love you.
He folded the written page and pushed it into his pocket.
He knew he would remember her in the prayer of his Mass each day. And he knew also, occasionally he would allow himself to return in memory to the happy times.
Slowly he rose. As he gently brushed the simple white cross, he whispered, “Good-bye Nae, my darling. I love you.”
Slowly he turned and walked away.