Slowly, but deliberately, we’ve made our way to the water. At times it has seemed like a celebration, as we revisited the joys of our collective history. But at other times, it has grown ominously quiet, as the reality of our impending farewell settles in.
Reaching the pier, the sound of the ship’s bell reminds us of the scarcity of time, and something that feels like panic briefly washes over me. There is a very human tendency to want to avoid such moments, and perhaps an even stronger urge to fixate on them. I know that I am not ready to say goodbye, but as I look into your eyes, it’s clear that it’s time for you to go.
I can see that you are shivering, and that these blankets have lost their ability to make you warm. And as much as I dred letting you go, I would not wish for you to spend another night in the cold. I can tell that you are worried for us, because that is how you’ve always been, but like our own apprehensions, it’s something we must set aside. We’ve arrived at the moment, and regardless of whether we feel ready, it is here.
So even though I cannot fathom a future without you, my heart cries,
Run to the light dear brother
Journey to that distant shore
Don’t look back in anguish
Be at peace
Know that the Father who awaits your arrival will care for us
Know that you will always occupy this place in our hearts
One day we will all be together again
Run to the light dear brother
Run to the light
And be free!
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