November — All Souls’ Day
“Are you coming, granddaughter?” grandmother asked, somewhat impatient. Aifa was still fiddling with her garment and time was growing short. “We have to go right now, otherwise we’ll be late.”
“Late for what, doyenne?” Aifa asked, heading towards the door.
“Our trip, dear. No, don’t take that, we are not going to need it,” she said, when Aifa tried to pick up a lamp for the return trip. Sunset was about an hour away, and the shadows of dusk had already started concealing the farther surroundings.
“But it’s going to be completely dark when we return! There is going to be no moonlight either, with the new moon!” Aifa thought she misunderstood.
“Precisely,” grandmother said, closing the door behind her and walking faster to catch up with her granddaughter. The latter had taken to heart the fact that they were late and was doing her best to shorten the trip. “Slow down,” grandmother said. “We have time.”
“Where are we going?” Aifa asked.
“We are going to the Great In-between,” grandmother replied.
“I don’t understand,” Aifa whimpered, already apprehensive because the shadows were becoming thicker as the sun went down.
“This is a special night, the hinge between the light and dark sides of the year. It is a time when the veil between our world and the world of the spirit is growing thin, so that the two worlds can communicate with each other in the in-between.”
“What is the in-between, doyenne?” the girl forgot her worries, because curiosity got the better of her.
“The in-betweens are natural transitions, places where the nature of things changes — the seashore, the riverbank, the change of season, the boundaries between night and day, the moment between life and death, they are all in-betweens. We are going to the in-between.”
“Do we have to arrive there before sunset?” Aifa asked and grandmother nodded. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“The beach, of course,” grandmother said.
“We are going to be there at night with no lantern? But it’s pitch dark! We’re not going to be able to see a thing!” Aifa protested.
“You have to learn to let go of your fears, granddaughter. The things you fear hold you back from everything that is good in this world. It is not the lamp that keeps you safe, but the faith in your heart and the certainty that both this world, and the world of the spirit, are wholesome and good, and conspire for your well-being. You have to learn to see with your heart. There is no danger in the night, you will be perfectly safe in the darkness of nature. It is the darkness of the soul that you must be wary of.”
“What happens in the in-between, doyenne?” Aifa asked, being very careful not to slip on the gravel that covered the path.
“We learn to trust the knowledge that comes in silence. This is a time of transformation, during which we take a good look at our lives and refashion what no longer suits us. We appreciate the sensory aspects of nature, one more time, before it goes to sleep under the ground.”
“But how can I appreciate nature, I can’t see a thing!” Aifa protested.
“Shh! Listen!” grandmother urged. The sounds of the surroundings seemed to grow louder, now that Aifa was focusing on them: the gentle sounds of the waves on the shore, the shuffle of barren leaves in the wind, the many sounds of the night creatures, who were rushing to find shelter and finish gathering their provisions for the winter. “What do you hear?” she asked Aifa.
“Nature sounds,” the latter replied.
“More specifically,” grandmother insisted.
“Waves,” Aifa started, and then picked up a strange sound, barely audible in the background. If she didn’t know any better, she would say it was a flopping of wings. “What kind of birds fly over the beach at night?” she thought. “Must be owls.”
“Not everything is what it seems to be,” grandmother paused to breathe in the strong scent of apples and pomegranates that mingled with the salty sea air. Aifa couldn’t remember her grandmother carrying anything from the city. “I see they brought gifts.”
Aifa could almost feel her grandmother smile, so she gathered all her courage to ask.
“Who brought gifts, doyenne?”
“The visitors from the other world. Can’t you hear them pick at the veil?”
“They are dead?” Aifa asked, terrified.
“Some. The dead are not the only inhabitants of the other world,” grandmother replied.
“Why aren’t you afraid,” Aifa got up in a panic, ready to run all the way back to the city.
“Sit down, granddaughter! You are being disrespectful. Is this how you are going to treat me after I pass from this world?” she asked, sternly.
“But…You are you!” Aifa tried to justify her reaction to the presence of the unknown departed.
“So are they! They are somebody’s grandmothers too. And sisters, and fathers, and children. What could they have possibly done to you, in their normal, innocent lives, so that now, in death, you fear them? They miss our love and kindness, especially those who have left this world alone and forgotten, and who have nobody to allay their worries and light their way home. Give them your kind thoughts, granddaughter, before you send them on their way.”
Aifa sent kind thoughts to the forgotten, whom she could almost see in her mind’s eye, and now that she could almost see them, she felt ashamed by her reaction. There were men, women and children, some so old time itself forgot their age, some barely out of swaddling clothes, and all of them seemed comforted to have been heard.
“Why did they die, doyenne?”
“Their time in this world ended, who is to know? Dying is the biggest in-between of all, a passageway between our two worlds.”
“Just an in-between? Like this beach?”
“Like this beach,” grandmother gently agreed.
“You said the dead were not the only inhabitants of the other world,” Aifa asked thoughtfully, while the people in her mind started departing for their other worldly home, before the thickening of the unseen curtain between the worlds trapped them in the world of the living.
“There are so many stories and legends about this realm, about heroes, and sages, and even simple people who ventured into the other world,” grandmother started her story.
“Did they come back?” Aifa asked.
“Yes.”
“But…” Aifa commented. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead to go over there?”
“Apparently not. Legend has it that there are passages, gateways between here and the great beyond, and if one knows where they are, and is there at just the right time, one can cross into the other world, unharmed.”
“This right time, would it be something like now?” Aifa asked, all ears.
“Very likely,” grandmother teased. “You wouldn’t happen to know a gateway nearby?”
“Doyenne!” Aifa protested. “Why would they want to do that?”
“According to the legends, they always go there in search for something: a cure for a deadly disease, an item of protection, great treasure, a trapped soul. It is said that of all those who try, only those motivated by bravery and love are allowed to pass.”
“What is it like?” Aifa asked.
“The other world? Beautiful, peaceful, an eternal summer garden. A place of joy and happiness, a world without end.”
“Is that where we sent the forgotten?” Aifa asked, and despite all of her efforts, grandmother’s eyes welled up with tears, but she answered.
“Yes, child. That’s where we sent the forgotten.”
“What else do you know about it?” Aifa asked.
“Well, it seems that all of those who pass through the veil forget where they came from, in an instant, unless they bring something with them to remind them why they are there and why they need to return. It is said that they can stay there for centuries, and not even realize it, because the passing of time leaves no traces in that world, and when they finally remember to return, the world they knew is long gone. Legend says that some people have crossed over there on purpose, without reminders, to enjoy eternal life.”
“So, nobody gets old there?” Aifa asked, and if it wasn’t pitch dark, grandmother could have seen her eyes widen with excitement.
“Nobody gets old, nobody gets sick, nobody can even be unhappy. Life there is perfect, without suffering.”
“It almost seems like it’s better to be there,” Aifa whispered.
“If you don’t mind the children of Cré being terrified of you for no reason whatsoever,” grandmother chided. “Remember what I told you about balance, granddaughter. You always veer too far one way or another. Earlier you were terrified of the other world, now you can’t wait to join it. Be here while you are here. That’s the secret to a fulfilled life. And stop worrying that the other world might be better. We’re all going there sooner or later, you’ll have plenty of time to experience it then.”
“Is there anything that was brought from the other world that was preserved?” Aifa asked.
“You mean like a physical object?” grandmother frowned. “You did hear that those were legends!” She became silent, deep in thought, trying to remember everything she knew about the myths of the other world. “There is one thing, an old wives’ tale. Do you know the roses that surround the pond in the garden of the Hearth?”
“The ones that bloom in the middle of winter?”
“Yes. Some old stories say they were brought back from the great beyond.”
An intense fragrance surrounded them, as if the whole beach had been instantly bathed in attar of roses. Neither one of them said anything.
“Do you think there is any truth to that?” Aifa asked casually, trying very hard to ignore the fragrance.
“I wouldn’t know,” grandmother replied.
“What else do you know about the other world?”
“It is populated by the fairies and filled with all sorts of creatures, creatures that you can’t even imagine. It has towers of alabaster and rivers of fire, and orchards filled with golden apples. There are fierce dragons whose scales are made of silver and copper, and everything is animated by the divine spirit: trees and animals can talk, even the sun, and the earth, and the water. The spirit infuses everything with its intelligence.”
“Where are those gateways, doyenne? Does anybody know?”
“You wouldn’t consider…” grandmother preempted a request. “Nobody really knows, but if there are any passageways, they must, naturally, be in an in-between.”
The thought finally dawned on Aifa.
“Doyenne, do you think that when the Twins disappear and reappear in our world they are moving in and out of the other world?”
“Maybe,” grandmother agreed.
“But then, that means the pond at the center of the garden of the Hearth must be a gateway. They always appear and disappear there,” Aifa insisted.
“Don’t burden your spirit with things it can’t fathom,” grandmother stopped her musings. ”Where the Twins are going, us humans can’t follow. At least not today.” The first rays of the sun had started peeking over the horizon, and the veil between worlds was now closed. “It seems it is time to go home. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. How about some nice pumpkin soup to chase away the chill?”
They made their way up the steep incline in the light of the sunrise, and while she was striving up the path Aifa’s attention got drawn to a cluster of blueberries that were gracing the side of the road, not three feet away. She stretched her arm to pick them, but grandmother stopped her.
“No, granddaughter! After today the fruits of the earth don’t belong to us anymore. We have gathered all that was ours to gather for the year. Now we have to wait for the next harvest.”
Aifa was still sad at the thought of all of those who had gone from this world, some in their ripe old age, but some in the prime of their life, before they had the chance to experience what life had to offer, and she felt comforted by the fact that over there, in the other world, no happiness was ever denied them. Grandmother saw her sadness.
“Every year on this day we remember all of those who have passed from this world; we remember our loved ones, but most importantly, we rekindle the memory of those who would otherwise be forgotten. Remembrance is the greatest honor we can render to a person’s spirit. What is remembered lives.”
