Post 3 #NanoWrimo2017 Nanowrimo in progress write 50,000 words in November = Book

Post 3 #NanoWrimo2017 Nanowrimo in progress write 50,000 words in November = Book

Unedited!

The saying painted in ancient letters below the painting was  - “the biggest trick the devil every did was convincing the world that he did not exist”.

We throw up one final prayer for those we love and who have left us. Putting on heavy jackets we slowly move out into the cold dark night, snow has turned back into rain making it feel even colder. Raw tear stroked cheeks are drenched with freezing moisture from the sky. And we walk, walk in silence to a place where we will all talk more joyously. We walk through the night each filled with thought of loved ones remembered and thinking about life.

Funny how fast we can shift from mourning to jovial when given the proper time. We arrive in a great mead hall lit with candles and a warm fire billowing on each side, 4 in all.  A light music is playing from a pair of harps and mandolin players in the corner. Against the longest wall is a table filled with meat and cheese, drinks and deserts. Not a person enters without looking and smiling at the feast that is  to come.  A small bell is hit with a hammer over and over, the eating and talking commences.

I walk to the table, small plates and forks are piled. I take mine and move forward, roast beast with cheese, pickled horny toad with crumpets, elk with eel sauce and Asian worm chocolate cake fill my plate. It is so heaped that a chunk of roast beat falls off as I walk to my table. A lap wolf runs over to the meat on the floor and quickly gobbles it up. The table I sit at is huge twenty people around with a giant candle in the center surrounded by a hundred smaller candles. We greet each other with a wave and hello and seat to feast.

The laughter and smells make a mood so loving you would hardly know we had been praying on departed souls only moments earlier. A server brings by tea and mead and espresso made of dried beans excreted from a cat. I ask for a goblet of all three and back up to make room on the table. Even though the table is very large every square inch is covered with food and drinks and peoples elbows as they converse close to neighbors. What a joy it is to take the time to talk about loved ones and all that brings us together in the fabric of humanity.  We all eat and eat and eat until no one can fit another morsel into their gut. There is still much food everywhere but in fear of bursting everyone is done eating. The fires are stoked and the harp gets louder. The newly formed family begins to say good byes and coats are brought out by helpers. The rain has shifted back to snow and there is now a thin layer of ice coating everything outside.

As we walk back to our electric carriages we drift off in small groups and mutter about the night. It sure was a nice service, the meal was over the top, the conversations and people were great. We commit to come back again next year. There will always be more death and there is always a need for prayer and community. We are mindful that we take the time needed to remember those we have lost and spend time with those still here that will be for a long time and are close to passing over.

The journey home is not a long one, dark and dreary with a certain delight you can only feel after mourning is over. The night is young but it is black as pitch. The road is wet and slippery. We pass a few other people on their journeys somewhere into the night.

When we think back on places and times that