A very clear evening. So much so that the distant hills seemed close, their woodlands dark green in the sun. A lone elder tree bloomed among the crops half a mile away. A great trailer carrying farm machinery lumbered past as I looked out from the by-pass.
I shall dream of these scenes when I am too old to walk there. A few clouds glowed in the light and the sky was a liquid blue . The flowers of the rosemary shrub which has recently finished blooming in my garden come to mind.
Today I learned of the death of my old friend, the widow who carried a sprig of rosemary to her husband’s funeral, six weeks ago. (See here, April 14).
They had been married 60 years and I am grateful to God that she was spared long years on her own. They were full of gentleness and kindness, my two friends, and much loved in our town.
I dare to believe that they are now together again. Strangely, and I have to acknowledge my remissness here, a week ago I had a strong sense of the character and being of the old lady’s husband and I thought I should call in on her. For the best of ‘practical’ reasons, I did not.
But, as I said, I am happy for her, in so many ways. They embodied decency and kindness.
And incidentally (or not) they were married at the church where my hero, the author and Christian apologist, C.S.Lewis worshipped, and where he and his brother lie buried, in Headington, Oxford