Solace and

The magic of Galway’s flute floods the air on a quiet morning , and I return again to another moment in time in the remarkable world that God gave his children.

It was the day when I thought I, too, would die. I hoped it would happen. Possibly because I wanted to join the man I loved on his final journey.

I could not imagine life without him. The young man who grew old with me and always held my hand throughout good and bad times for 57 years.

Throughout family disputes, anguish and more than occasional disapproval, we stood together. The magnitude of being alone was well beyond the scope of my comprehension, and a cloak of despair enveloped me.

Yet that was 16 years ago when my beloved boarded the mythical ferry, and to my surprise I have survived his loss.

But always with a price, too vague to find proper vocabulary to describe. There is chronic pain that seems to never quite disappear, and tears that while unshed during daylight, fall unannounced when seeking my lover in dreams.

Although I know well the clinical description for this unending embrace of grief, I cannot deny its reality.

It is the price for love. A price, not only I, but a large segment of society has paid throughout generations when they have lost an Anam Cara, their soul friend.

Love demands a great toll. Still love is a gift I will never regret having received. We, who love, gift each other a segment of our soul.

And while the indescribable pain of loss seems never to ease, neither does gratitude for all the moments we were blessed to share.

As now I find solace and refuge in the hopeful belief that my soul friend is waiting patiently somewhere now for my ferry to dock.