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Mama, gardener, teacher, photographer, faffer with paint and colour

Friday, 27 January 2012

For Thomas

Let me tell you a simple story of a sleepy village. Nestled at the bottom of two hills, crowned with grey granite boulders, buzzards soar by day and owls hoot by night. In the village there was a tall, young man, he had a shock of wild frizzy hair, he liked to draw fairies and goblins and loved old ways and old tales and music to jig to. He was brought up by his Aunt as his mother had died. She raised him and he was her own, she poured love into him and nurtured a gentle spirit.
It came to pass that as a young man he fell in love with a woman, fair and true, but with a temper to raise passions. She also loved to draw and brought colour into the lives of those around her, she made people laugh.They lived a simple life, both wanting to be free to create. They loved the hills around their home and married atop the granite tor, proclaiming their love for all the gathered villagers to hear, some weeping with joy for the raw honesty of their words. Rain soaked their clothes and the wind whipped the dress of the bride, swollen belly proud, the baby eager to leap into their lives.
Villagers would watch the family go about their lives, the baby daughter with a shock of fair hair and a gentle smile.They were very much loved by their friends and family.
After a time, the heart of the young man started to falter, his love remained but his heart would not work. He became tired and struggled to hold his beloved daughter. He laughed despite his fear,while his wife took the little girl alone on her back to watch the buzzards and feel the wind.
The villagers, their friends, and his family also felt the fear as his strength waned.
His heart stopped.
And now the village is in mourning, an aura of shock and disbelief surrounds the people who knew him.
He was a good man, of the type only found in fairy stories.Those left behind are bereft, of a son, a husband, a daddy, a friend, a person to while away the days and nights, to share fires and songs, stories and creatures, magic and most of all love. His spirit is still here, it is strong and present, maybe soaring with the buzzards, or the owls.You loved well Thomas, and are well loved.Carry the love with you.xxx

1 comment:

  1. Oh Rachel, I just found this. Thank you. Beautiful. I'll link to it from my blog. Love to you too. xx