SAYING GOODBYE

The eighteen-year-old daughter of a friend was tragically killed in a car accident. The young woman was a promising athlete, an accomplished scholar. At the church service, each of her parents spoke with pride of these things.

Afterwards, everyone drove out into the country to the small cemetery in the hamlet where they had lived for many years.

It was a beautiful day. Cloudless sky. A deep azure blue. A warm, gentle breeze. Birdsong surrounded us. The cemetery was quiet, immaculately kept, bordered with mature oak trees. A black, oftentimes rusty, old-fashioned ornamental wire fence sagging with age and neglect ringed the grounds. Beyond the fence, off to the north-west, green fields and pastures extended to the far horizon in gently rolling hills.

I felt at peace as soon as I entered through the open swing gate. Many mourners moved silently toward the open graveside.

Family members and classmates carried her up the dirt path from the dusty road that stopped at the entrance to the cemetery. Gently the casket was settled upon the straps across the opening of the grave. It was a solemn and moving moment.

Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves broke the hushed silence.

Everyone turned away from the graveside and looked toward the sloping, emerald green field a short distance away. A chestnut brown mare appeared at the crest of the hill and trotted quietly down to the wire fence. Her breath was coming in soft snuffles of air. She shook her head several times, the long silky hair of her mane glistening in the late afternoon sun.

And then she settled, head over the low fence top, the brown heavily lashed eyes looking directly at the resting coffin. Her gaze shifted for a moment toward the grieving mother. Then the father. Then the sister and brother.

Apparently reassured, she turned her head back to where she had first appeared. She whinnied three times. Beyond our sight, she was answered by a short, much softer whinny, followed by the drumming sound of lighter hoof beats on the long summer grass which rippled like waves in the gentle breeze.

A foal soon appeared, slowed and moved toward its mother, making soft nuzzling sounds until it stood beside the mare. And just like her mother had done, the foal stretched her head over the fence top and gazed at the coffin. She was an exact miniature to her mother in colour and definition. She was tucked in so close that her flanks lightly touched the side of the mother’s belly. There was no sound except for the gentle, soft huffing breaths of both daughter and mother.

The committal service began. It continued for about fifteen minutes. Neither horse moved except for the slow in and out of their nostrils. The coffin was lowered. Family and friends approached the grave, placing flowers and other keepsakes onto the top of the coffin resting just out of sight. The mare and her foal did not move. Nor did their gaze shift from the coffin.

The young woman’s coffin was lowered with care into the grave.

Each family member approached, threw a small amount of soil into the grave and bowed their head in private prayer.

A most remarkable thing happened.

The grieving mother lifted her face toward the mare and her foal. With pale cheeks glistening from her tears, she at first smiled then slowly nodded toward each of the two animals. As if on cue, the mare and foal silently turned as one, slowly trotting off into the field and over the hill out of our sight.

No one moved. No one spoke. The magical moment hung in the air.

Turning toward us, the mother invited everyone to the family’s nearby home for a celebration of her daughter’s amazing and generous life.

And for that memory, I am truly blessed.

First Publication: ‘Saying Goodbye’ appeared in Canadian Stories in the June-July 2016 issue. The above version has been slightly edited from the original published version.

The Backstory: Years ago, I attended a funeral very similar to the one described in this story. That experience stayed with me over many years. Finally, I wrote about it. Perhaps some of the facts here may be a bit fuzzy with time but essentially the actual event occurred as I represent it here.

Legal Rights. ‘Saying Goodbye’ is the intellectual property of the author, Don Herald. No part of this story may be reproduced in any format without the written permission of the author.