An angel came to me today, and asked if I was ready to go. I said yes. I laid there, sure of myself. No regrets. No concerns. They asked again, hinting at anything I’d want to return to. Anything that would pause this moment. I said I was ready. They closed my eyes and asked what I saw, to be sure that I saw nothing. Nothing to lead me back here.
I laid there.
In the darkness. A spark. A flame, lit in front of me. It wasn’t only my doing, but I tended to it. I fanned it. Loved it. Cared for it. Protected it. Admired it. Kept the burn alive. It was small, but it was enough for me. The feeling. The glow. The crackle. It was mine. It was us.
It was now only mine. I sat by the flame. Slept near it, feeling its warmth, until I no longer tended to it. I showed it to others and explained it as best as I could, until I couldn’t anymore. I stopped tending to it. I stopped caring for it. I didn’t protect it. I only observed it. Until the embers turned into ash. Tears falling as what was has gone up in smoke. I laid there, watching the smoke permeate the air around me. Grieving, as if the flame was still alive, I watched it dance. The smoke eventually ceased and I walked away. I didn’t look back, I didn’t wipe my face.
I heard someone calling my name, a whisper in the wind. I ignore it, as it happens again and again. I know who it is, but the flame, our flame, is gone and I feel numb. I reconcile with that thought as a final whisper turns into a shout. Then an explosion, in the same direction of what was left. Conflagration. Attention-seeking. I look back to witness what was done. For me. I’d usually return to help, to put it out, to care for it, but I turn away one final time. Continuing my journey forward.
I couldn’t tend to the flame until the voice was ready to admit it was there. So, I let them go. Allowing them to fade as they once desired.
The angel asked again, explaining the chance I have to mend and build. Knowing what I know. Seeing what I’ve witnessed. Feeling the ache that’s still in my heart. I said I was ready.