Fishing from heaven

The frost clung to the surroundings as I do my itinerary down the old crooked path. It was early first light and the f pass around weather was attempting to wedge its personal manner through the clouds it remained ice cold. There was little life sentence to be seen most animals were hidden remote from the dangers and cruelty of winter. They had collected their feed and were snuggled away make water to sleep the months through. At that moment I wished I could join them. Why couldnt I run away and hide until I was ready to face life again? As I trod over the cold granite with the fellow mourners I could see vigor of happiness. Everything hung in dismay as if even temper knew this was a suffering and lonely place. I imagined the gloomy individuals walking this route over the decades. It was a path that had to be travelled only when very few were ready or willing to face its destination. Instead we all hoped something would abruptly miscellany and that our fate would be reversed. The daunting doors appeared a header and I make my way inside along with the others all of us coated in black. I shivered, no longer because of the temperature but rather fear, as I made my way inside the thick stone walls. The mighty roof towered over me shadowy and oppressive.I found my pew and sat down completely to wait. The tranquilising smell of burning incense combined with my tired country almost lulled me to unconsciousness but a stern voice suddenly called for the beginning of the service and I turned to face the altar. It was covered in a white cloth which hung loosely over the sides clearly likewise big. A cross made up the centrepiece and a wax light stood on either side. Id never been to a church before but I knew granddad had. I imagined him looking at this cross and, like me, wondering why life had to happen the way it did.The music sounded and they began to enter the robed man and the six companions of my grandpa. I whole knew one of them. They h ad gone to school together and granddad would always class stories of their misbehaving tricking the teacher and missing classes. I saw his friend dim with collar no longer a schoolboy with a future of b obligationness ahead. His head hung low as he made his way down the aisle. The palpebra of the pose was lifted and his face tightened as he saw his friend for the last time. Granddads face was withered and frail, his lips rose tapdance and dry. They had dressed him in his favourite suit especially for the occasion. His body pose stiff, fragile and delicate but strangely imposing. This was not how I remembered him. photo and mixed-upness had overcome him. His intelligent being was hidden deposed by dying.* * *It was a spring morning and the lake glistened in the sun. Not a ripple strike the perfect reflections. The smell of freshly painted wood hung in the air as the boat entered the water. Its green body caused it to appear like a lily-pad against the sleek over expanse . I was trembling with excitement I had never been on a boat before. We lived in the town where buildings filled the landscape. It was only when I came here on holiday that I got to see the amazing aspects of nature so forgotten in cities where cars and buses have taken over. First grandpa gave me a rod. He smiled as I looked at this alien prey with uncertain eyes. He loaded the reel, explained how to make a blot knot, stuck on the tiny squirming pinkie and cast into the distance. He stressed the importance of doing this flop so as to avoid whipping your neighbour or galvanize the surrounding tilt. Looking at granddad I stared intently at the thick folds throughout his face, his hunched over body and the shadows beneath his eyes. As he cautiously scanned the horizon he noticed my attention had wavered and stared right into my soul seemingly extracting my thoughts.Ethan, old age is nothing to fear but something to grasp with open arms and imagine the life past and still to come. You must remember that. This moment will pass but the repositing remains forever and thats what we hold on to even when death arrives.I turned away not sure what he meant and cogitate back on my angleing.My line went taut and I was pulled back to the present. The tilt wriggled desperately trying to free itself from the cruel spike threatening its life. It was helpless against my strong grasp. My determination to impress granddad and the weak power of the lean enabled me to reel the rod all the way in. I had caught a fish a trout It was avocado green speckled pink. I knew little of the types of fish but granddad told me it was a Yellowstone Cutthroat Trout native to this area. He smiled high-flown of what I had gained.* * *I wept bitter with regret as the pastor began to piffle of grandfathers life in such a imperturbable way. He knew nothing of the love I felt for him, of the kindness grandfather showed or of the suffering he endured in his last years. I wished I could hav e stood up and conjured up something which may have done him legal expert rather than this monatomic drone of weddings, birthdays and jobs. This was not all that my grandfather was. He was more than this. The room silenced as the pastor took to his seat. The roof of the coffin was replaced and the congregation bowed their heads remembering the man in their own way. I saw, not the cold lifeless face that had been laid before me this morning but the bright and warm-hearted glow from that fishing day. I saw him in his heaven with doves fluttering above a crystal ocean replete of the most beautiful creatures.