fingertips soft

H E

I remember Hermanus. There was a pathway and we walked it. As canon, you were feather-light incarnate. Your spirit twirled its virtues in a flowery skirt while your voice cut loose along the sea air with its praise songs for Lisa and Matthew…

…tirelessly, to all who would listen…

…and it was lovely listening to you.

Thank you for being in my life Carol, and for your asking ‘how are you?’

I think you always asked it of us, sincerely, to keep us from asking you first…

Still, you always glowed, you always touched with fingertips soft and you always stood with God. And for it, with you, we see now that we really are a compression of souls on one highway – even if for our different off ramps.

What a cool ride we had together while we did though, right?

So now you sit with God and see us, sorry that we’re sad and maybe a little sad yourself. Not because you have gone but because the ones you love here can’t be there with you. In Heaven. But like a forthcoming attraction, you gave us a glimpse of that place: bright with the grace of its goodness in a person we got to know.

You glowed.

And you touched with fingertips soft.

Ergo, Heaven must abound with honest humility, heartfelt hugs and handwritten cards, scopic with sincere sentiments and just limitless love.

I bet you’re super happy to be home Carol — as any angel would be. 

Just remember to look after us?

Like you’d have it any other way.

photo

© Dylan Balkind

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