Who are you to stand so in state?
Who are you to gaze upon the departed?
Who are you to mourn their leaving?
It had been the spirit watch for a day and nights passing and they did not wake. No stirring of form of passage of breath did the body make. No hunger or thirst came upon it to cause a motion. No movement of any kind.
They did not wake.
He had stood so near unblinking for the spirits watch. Ensuring that the allotted time had passed and the spirit had not returned to the form, nor any other spirit take up residence.
Watching for a wake was a trial in itself. Enduring patiently so that the fallen was not alone. Abstaining food and drink so that the hunger or thirst upon you may somehow trigger it upon them. Watching closely so as not to miss a detail in case they were but sleeping or spirit traveling.
Old Donall had strode the land with the Dagda for many years and many were the challenges and adventures they had shared and endured. Donall was well aware of the Dagda's heart and knew the burdens set upon it by bearing the responsibility for life and death in that length of club wood. A great power true, but weighty with great responsibility.
It was he who had spoken of it, one night at revel, but indeed made mention of it in sincerity when the light of the next day was upon them.
"I don't want bringing back."
The Dagda had looked at him, surprised and confused, and moved to speak, but Donall hushed him and carried on.
" I seen the greatness of you and that death touch wood, an all this time together I thought to meself, Donall, ne'er be on the receivin end of that ending.
Wise words no doubt and no chore it was me for your friendship has been of great joy and no enemy of you would I be.
So the years have come and old I am, the strength and vigour leaves me and my wisdom and council is not much more needed.
So then I thought, what of that other end? What of carrying on with our adventures forever? That's when I realised it.
I'm not for stayin Old Donall forever and who knows what's for seein once my ending comes.
I know it's a sorrow I be puttin on ye Big Man, but I would not have the carrying me on that club forever.
Carry instead fond memories of me in your heart so that ye smile thinkin o me."
So that was that. Donall now called 'Old' once called 'Bold' died a quiet death. No battles harm upon him, no pain of illness to touch him, just a soft goodbye as dreams slipped over him and his breath left him at rest.
Dagda stood where only Kin could. Dagda stood dark eyes witnessing the passage onto death. Dagda stood, recalling to mind each tale of Donall's life and finding more smiles than tears upon him.
Dagda stood where Donall would have him stand, watching for a wake they both knew would not come.
******************************************************************************************************************************
For more stories and exclusive content please considering supporting me on Patreon
