There is a corridor. It is long, glowing white, with many doors branching left and right, but there is only one door I have seen. Through the door it is early evening. The air is warm and scented with trees and fruits and flowers and the sea. A lush forest canopy frames the path, and in the distance there is the sound of ocean and music and laughter. The glowing flicker of a fire lights up the canopy and it's only a short walk to the forest's edge. The sand is soft here where the beach comes to meet the trees. The ocean breeze blows gently and the setting sun paints a rainbow across the sea.
At the fire there is food, wine, music and friends who have come before. Friends no longer touched by demons, age, illness or pain.
You invited us to a party at your home. It was dusk when we arrived at the great wooden doors. You let us in, hugged us, and I thanked you so very, very much for letting us be part of this, told you how honoured we were to be invited. You laughed and hugged me again and we spoke for a short while before the next visitors came and you moved on.
The house was gently lit with fairy lights and candles and was full of people. Everyone dressed to the nines, drink in hand, huge smiles on their faces. We were here to celebrate you and it was an amazing party. You floated between groups laughing and chatting and the house was filled with love and joy and celebration.
Halfway through the evening I hadn't seen you for a little while so I went searching but it was time and you had gone. And I wept and wept and awoke from the dream still weeping.
My grandfather died when I was thirteen. I still miss him, talk to him, and wish I could dance around the kitchen table with him one more time.
My grandmother passed away when I was twenty-five. She did not know she was dying, but she asked us to move the armchair so my grandfather would have more room to stand. She wasn’t ready. She told us she didn’t want to go where he was, but somewhere it had been decided that it was her time to go.
She told us to go on to the party only she could hear, and that it was time for her to sleep.
So do not fear death. You won’t be alone. The ones you love who have gone before will welcome you as we weep, and one day each of us will walk down that corridor with rooms for our families and friends and many other places and people and adventures I can’t even imagine. We will open the door marked E2 and meet you around that beautiful fire at dusk where there is no pain or sorrow, and we will be together once more.