Chapter 47
The Conclusion of a Life
(Ó
2010)
Mid- Summer 2039
It all came to a conclusion one June morning in the small village southwest of Paris. Logan Ian Morrow, now eighty-eight years of age, awoke at his usual early hour. He awoke slowly, his consciousness fading into the morning from his sleep, first still with his eyes closed. The usual sounds of the morning coming into his ears as if someone was turning up the volume of the radio very slowly to a soft tolerable tone. First was the sound of the wind chimes from the backyard of the chalet, then the breeze around the house and through the trees, to lastly the birds singing their morning chorus.
Then he slowly opened his eyes to see the light of the morning filling his room. It seemed brighter than usual. He sat up, put his feet into his slippers, stood from his bed, and began to prepare for his day. His daily runs over the past few years had their distances shortened and even done now every other day. Long walks now replaced the days that he did not run, and now Logan would take an extra day off from them occasionally. This morning he decided that this would be one of those ’off days’, and he would do a bit more of his weightlifting later on that morning. Over the past few years, the amount of weight on his barbells had become somewhat lighter.
This morning Logan was feeling much different. This morning he was feeling a bit happier … more content … more at peace. He then stepped into his bathroom, showered, and shaved. Afterwards he dressed and then went downstairs to the kitchen to prepare his morning coffee. He smelled the aroma as it filled the kitchen while it brewed. While the coffee brewed on the stove percolator Logan stared out of the window, taken aback at how glorious the morning was. The sky an astonishing blue with just a few exceptionally white clouds passing overhead. The breeze through the trees was making the morning more peaceful and glorious with its unique sound. Logan was happy and he didn’t know why. His mood was particularly cheerful. He felt completely rested as if he just had the best night’s sleep of his life.
He poured both cups and walked to the kitchen table, placing Lily’s at her setting and then sitting down in his chair. Raising his cup, seeing the steam rising from the coffee, he held it up as if he were doing a toast in the direction of Lily’s chair and gave his usual morning greeting of, “Mornin‘ Lil girl.” Then, taking the first sip from his cup, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and concentrated on the morning noises. Separating them … the breeze through the trees … the bird’s morning calls … a rare automobile or bicycle going down the road in front of the chalet … the occasional creaking noise of the house as the wind pushed upon the walls outside.
He sat there for a few moments meditating on the morning when … a different noise was detected. It was soft and barely audible.
“- - - lo - - -gn - - -”
The instincts of the old Lakota turned Legionnaire kicked in. He focused on the sound … straining his ears … he thought he heard something different. The sound then came back … still very soft and barely audible.
“- - - it - - -ti - - - my - - - lv - - -”
Logan opened his eyes slowly. He then looked around a little languorously. Looking around believing that he had heard … something … something different. He closed his eyes and opened his senses to try to hear it again. He tried a few more times but then realized that time was going by, and that he had to go to the morning mass. He stood and placed his coffee cup in the sink, and then took the other outside to pour it into the soil of the rose bushes.
When he did step outside he noticed immediately how sweet and fresh the air was. He poured the coffee into the soil, and stood up and looked into the sky. Something is different. He felt it. It was such an astonishingly picturesque morning. Logan thought to himself that this is what heaven must be like. Just like this morning, all the time … this is what Lily must be existing in right now … at this very moment. He quickly then went back inside the kitchen to put Lily’s cup in the sink, and then get his sports jacket and rosary. He could not wait now to walk to the church and just take in the morning on the way there.
At eighty-eight years of age, Logan was still a very strong and virile looking man. Standing erect, still over six feet tall and broad shouldered, and he could walk with conviction, without the use of a cane or walker. The only thing that seemed to change on him was that his dark black hair was now silver. People would comment on what good health he seemed to be in. That he could still fight in the Legion if need be.
Logan was feeling strange warmth around not only him, but also going all the way through him. He felt great warmth around his right arm particularly. There was a presence with him. Something out of the ordinary.
He arrived at the church with five minutes to spare before the mass, and as always, would sit in the back pews. The priest gave a sermon on God’s forgiveness. On how His forgiveness is like any Father who loves His children. If you seek His forgiveness, you shall receive it if you are sincere in your beliefs.
After the mass, with the other parishioners gone, Logan took out his rosary, genuflected as he knelt, and began to pray. The rosary felt warm in his hands. As always slowly and methodically reciting the “Hail Mary’s”, “The Lord’s Prayer” and “The Act of Contrition”. Finishing, he genuflected, rose to his feet and walked to the end of the pew, knelt facing the alter, genuflected again, turned and walked towards the entrance. Before going outside, he dipped the fingers of his right hand into the bowl of holy water, and genuflected one last time.
The morning was still uniquely spectacular. Logan then began his walk east towards the center of the village; the strange but extremely calming warmth penetrating through him all the way to the crossroad, where he turned left and walked northward towards the cemetery for the final time. As he walked, four women who traveled all the way from Nova Scotia were sitting inside of Gerard’s Café to see for themselves the old Legionnaire that they had heard about doing his daily ritual to his long mourned beloved.
“Look, look, there he is.”
Silently, they followed him with their eyes, and their waiter assured him that yes, that was indeed the ‘Old Legionnaire’. They felt somewhat emotional; they could not believe that the story was actually true and that they were witnessing it for themselves. They were holding their breath, as if any noise they made would either disturb him or alert him to their undivided attention. They waited for him to pass, and then they went outside of Gerard’s to watch him make his way to the cemetery.
“He usually stays there anywhere for about and hour or so,” the waiter informed them, “rain or shine.” The women decided to wait around and watch Logan upon his return back to his home. They were going to take his picture from a distance to show all of their friends back in Canada, they also planed to take a picture of Lily’s resting place, to add to their discussions back home. This was a real life equivalent to all of the romance novels that they read in their book club, and they were part of the experience of it.
They stood watching Logan as he disappeared down the road and into the cemetery.
As he passed through the gate, the two young custodians who took over the care of the cemetery some years before greeted him. Albert was tall and lean with brown hair and brown eyes, and his co-worker Bernard, was a shorter but stocker man with short blond hair and looked as though he had the strength of a bull. Logan returned both their greetings as he strolled passed them. Like all before them, the custodians knew the story, and continued with the cordial attitude towards him as he took his usual seat at the bench at the foot of Lily’s grave.
“Morning Lil girl. My God, isn’t it a beautiful morning?” He asked to the picture of her on her grave marker, “I can’t remember seeing a morning like this in, well, I don’t know when.”
He sat there with his face towards the sky, feeling the concurrent cool of the breeze and the warmth of the sunshine. The wind through the leaves on the trees made him feel tranquil. The custodians walked past him as they went on with their morning duties. They walked quietly so as to not disturb Logan with his morning visit; they went to a grave that was about thirty feet to Logan’s right to work on a defective sprinkler. They knelt down with their tools to begin the repairs.
As Logan sat, the warmth that was going through him throughout the morning began to slowly increase. He began to feel euphoric, and the little aches and pains that his senior years had brought to him over time began to fade, until he felt for some strange reason, totally pain free. He felt somewhat intoxicated, and he felt himself separating from the reality around him. It was as if he were now inside some sort of bubble, the noises of the morning were pulling away from him, they were still there, but as if they were outside of the bubble and inside he was in a peaceful silence. He then felt like he was not alone inside this bubble, he felt a presence behind him. There then came warmth around his right arm.
“Logan.” Her voice said happily, “Logan, my sweet, it’s time to come with me.” He had heard her perfectly, with no effort whatsoever. He felt great warmth on his right shoulder and around his right bicep and down his forearm.
The two custodians were continuing with their work on the sprinkler head, they had it disassembled and were ready to start to replace the broken parts when Bernard looked over in Logan’s direction. He thought something looked a little strange and tapped his partner on the arm, put his fingers to his lips to keep him silent and then pointed in Logan’s direction.
Both watched the ‘Old Legionnaire’ as he stared straight ahead, he then started to slowly look to his right. He looked slightly over his shoulder as if someone was standing there and his eyes then moved as if someone had just sat down next to him. He took his left hand, placed it on his right forearm and slowly stroked and patted it. Then a smile comes to his face and he began to stand. This is when the custodians saw and heard something that was out of the ordinary. All of the years that they saw the Old Legionnaire, no matter if it was at the cemetery, or around in the small suburb, he was always speaking in French. This time however as he began to stand, he continued to have his eyes focused to spot on the bench next to him. He was halfway to standing when they heard him say loudly in English, with a distinct American accent:
“Lily! … My God! … How beautiful you are!”
Before he could stand fully erect, he legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed on top of Lily’s grave. The two custodians watched as he fell, they then immediately dropped what they were doing and ran to Logan’s side to help him.
“Msr. Morrow! Msr. Morrow! What is the matter sir! Msr. Morrow!” Bernard said shaking Logan’s shoulder slightly. He turned to his co-worker and said, “Go call for help! Now! Go!”
Albert ran to the office a short distance away where inside he grabbed the telephone to call for an ambulance and the police. He stood there with the receiver in his hand, looking out the window in the direction of his partner kneeling next to Logan. Seeing the beauty of the day and the whole panorama of the cemetery, Bernard with Logan in the foreground, with the entry gate in the back.
Bernard meanwhile was still kneeling next to Logan; he placed his fingers on Logan’s neck to check for his pulse, there was none. He knew right then that the Old Legionnaire was gone, his long heartbreaking mourning had finally come to an end. He looked down at the man, feeling sad for his passing, yet happy that he may now be at peace. He placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder, and then looked up to Lily’s gravestone, at her picture engraved on the stone, and a smile came over his face. He stayed there, looking out at the front gate. He stayed there with Logan, then after some moments, he began to hear the sounds of the sirens in the distance.
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