The Red Bridge
I know you’re here. I caught a glimpse of you before I looked down to check my step, making sure I didn’t trip on the time worn cobblestones beneath the entrance arch. Those eyes that always held a hint of mischief. That open, knowing smile. Every year in the month of ghosts, we’d journey to the Jade Mountain Temple at the end of the red bridge to celebrate your beloved grandparents, to make sure their spirits wouldn’t feel alone.
Now it’s just me who comes, to make sure you don’t feel alone.
I cross the gently curving bridge and enter the temple. The loss I feel is still raw, but lessens as I place my incense beside the other glowing red shards in the brass bowl, that sits atop legs shaped like dragons. I feel cocooned and peaceful, surrounded by the familiar low hum of others chanting and giving thanks to ancestors. As I kneel I feel your breath on my neck, hear your voice as it gently whispers, ‘It’s time now.’ I see your smile again and know you will be with me, always.
The Red Bridge © Kerry Gittins 2021. All Rights Reserved.