Always My Love 2005

copyright @ April Martin

By April Martin 2005

I've been coming to sit by our tree every day for eight months now. The beautiful weeping willow tree, its waterfall-like branches cascading down the hillside, keeps my memories of Gray strong. We used to picnic here, talking for hours about our future and holding each other. Gray died eight months ago, leaving me more alone than I’ve ever felt. Whenever the wind blows through the leaves, I can almost hear Gray whispering "I love you." Lying on my back, staring up at the swaying leaves, I whisper back, hoping he can hear me.

Gray Arthur McDaniel, the love of my life and the man I was faithful to for twenty-seven years. I can still feel his arms slipping around my waist, his face buried in the space between my neck and shoulders. "How's my baby girl doing today?" he'd say. Sometimes, it irritated me to hear the same line every day, but oh, what I would give to hear those words now. Tears swell up inside me. Why is he gone? The pain is supposed to ease over time, but it feels as though it's getting worse. Pounding the ground with my frail fists, I catch a glimpse of my wedding ring sparkling in the sunlight. Instantly, I grab the chain around my neck. Dangling from it is an elliptical-shaped bottle, a dazzling shade of sapphire. I chose that color because it was Gray's birthstone. Delicate pieces of silver melted from his wedding band, wrap around the bottle, engraved with the words "ALWAYS MY LOVE ALWAYS."

People think I’m crazy, and perhaps I am, but there’s a fine line between reality and insanity, and it’s more fun to dance between the two. Keeping part of him with me, preserving our everlasting love, seems like the most logical thing to do. The essence of our love, the blood of two lovers, flows freely around my neck. Even though Gray has passed, I am reminded of his love every day.

As I sit by the tree, I remember our first meeting. It was at a small café where I worked as a waitress. Gray walked in with a group of friends, his laughter filling the room. When he smiled at me, I felt an instant connection. He asked for my number, and the rest was history. Our first date was a picnic under this very willow tree. He brought a basket filled with sandwiches and my favorite wine. We talked until the sun set, and he held me close, promising to love me forever.

Gray's proposal was another unforgettable moment. We were at the beach, the waves crashing against the shore. He got down on one knee and presented me with a ring, his eyes filled with love and hope. "Will you marry me, Sylvia?" he asked. I said yes, tears of joy streaming down my face. Our wedding was small but perfect, surrounded by close family and friends. We danced under the stars, wrapped in each other's arms.

Tonight is a full moon, the night I will try to communicate with Gray. I'm frightened. Seeing ghosts is nothing new to me, but this is different—this is Gray. There's a chance that something evil might come in his place. The sage will help ward off any unwelcome guests. Could tonight be the night I see my husband again? The thought is both exciting and terrifying. I stand up and decide to go home; I have a lot to prepare and no room for error.

Crushing the sage with my mortar and pestle, I feel the soft leaves give way under the weight of the stone. I gather the materials and place them in the wicker basket. Exhausted from my swirling thoughts, I take a break with a cup of chamomile tea. The sweet smell and warmth help me collect my thoughts. With the basket in hand, I set out for the willow, knowing I have exactly one hour before the moon is full.

The night air is refreshing, the sky still clear, offering a full view of the stars. Reaching the tree, I look around nervously, hoping no one will see me. They wouldn’t understand. Shaking off the thought, I kneel at the base of the tree and fiddle with the chain around my neck. Speaking softly, I begin to talk to Gray, explaining that I hope he will join me tonight. A slight breeze, like a gentle kiss, blows across my cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I look up at the sky, wondering if Gray is watching me from among the stars.

I check my watch: 11:35. The spell must be done at midnight. I spread out the blanket, the very same one we used for our picnics, and swear I can smell him for a moment. Time ticks on as I prepare. Walking clockwise with a miniature broom, I sweep the air to clear negative energies, envisioning a protective silver light. Next, I place two silver bowls and charcoal blocks to light the sage. The crushed sage burns, its smoke rising in protective swirls. I place the bowls at opposite ends of the blanket and arrange candles in their holders, lighting them one by one.

Facing north, I grab a photograph of Gray, my favorite, and place it before me. Smiling at it, I wonder if Gray will soon smile back. The sage smoke begins to fade. Uneasy, I start the ritual. Chanting softly, I feel the night air fill my lungs. The phrase "Goddess of the light, Goddess of the night, watch over me tonight" flows freely from my mouth. I light the first candle, saying, "I am here to communicate with Gray McDaniel. I desire to blend once again with him." Lighting the second candle, I continue, "Here I kneel before you, my love for Gray is strong and lasting. Let the light of this candle shine through and draw my loving husband home to me once again."

With three candles burning, I turn to the photograph, tracing the curve of Gray's lips with my finger. The words that come out are low and angry: "I call Gray McDaniel, let his spirit return for a brief time." Repeated three times, each utterance grows more bitter. The wind chills and fear grip me, but I feel warm and hazy, like after a shot of whiskey.

As I continue the ritual, I hear rustling in the bushes nearby. Panic sets in. What if it's an unwelcome guest? My heart races as I quickly grab the sage, waving the smoke in the direction of the noise. The rustling stops, but my fear remains. Staring at the picture, I hope it works—it must work. Desperation fills my voice as I shout, "Gray, please come to me now. Please, Gray, I love you, I need you, let me see you!"

Silence. Only silence. My head falls to my knees as I begin to cry. Hours pass. I feel lost and alone. At some point, I fall asleep. When I wake, the tear-stained picture is clutched in my hands. Nothing happened. It didn’t work. I am more alone than ever, starting yet another day alone by the weeping willow tree.

copyright @ April Martin