My Dear Terry: Until We Meet Again

My dear Terry, tomorrow it will be a year since you left this world to walk another. There is not a single day that goes past where I don’t think of you. The tears still come so easily. In fact, it gets worse as time goes on. But I know you would smile softly at me, your gentle eyes twinkling, and pat my hand, and tell me that this is just the cycle of life. 

Your passing has brought heartbreak, and other losses. I think you would be sad at that, but as a Druid, you understood the terribly complex nature of humans and the world. Which is why you had so much love to give. 

I think back to one very wet and windy Samhain night in your living room. I can’t remember which year it was, and I chide myself for not writing all these things down; for not drinking in every last detail as if we would all die tomorrow. Your passing has shown me how much I take for granted, and how I yearn to spend more time with my friends even though time, energy and money are obstacles that stand in my way. I know that when my time comes this will be one of my greatest regrets. That night you left me in charge of roasting the chestnuts, and as they cooked we sat, drinking and chatting, and making merry ‘til the early hours with the people we love. They were happy times; I felt I belonged somewhere, and I often go back to this memory.

I think of the love you spread at countless handfastings. At those of people I didn’t know, at Jax and Mark’s, at my own. You held my hand from the starting point of my pilgrimage. At this point you were less mobile and I can’t help but stifle a laugh at the thought of tiny me trying to help you climb over a locked gate! You were a huge, broad man! We stopped at the heartbreak stone, where you had me cast away anything or anyone that would get in the way of my union. You gave me time and space for contemplation and consideration, and to do this properly. You were ready to assist me again only when I was. 

I think of the many Gorsedds you held that I attended with Jane and friends. I smile warmly at the memory of you and I listening to Folk on the radio in your car before we headed into The Old Ford for our moot.

I think of you, Susan, Justin and I sat in your garden that hot Summer Solstice while you waited to be interviewed by Antoines de Caunes. It was so lovely to spend time together. You got Justin to cut the path at the back of your house so that we could walk the field to the stones. Justin got burns on his legs, not realising that most of it was hogweed, and getting no warning from you, the Druid! He bore those burns for weeks! Despite Justin’s discomfort, this memory still makes me laugh. That was a special day, hot and hazy. There was something special between you two; an understanding that you were similar men with shared experiences. You adored each other. 

That afternoon I found an injured shrew that stayed with me. It was totally possible to take it into the kitchen without a thought and get it water - such was yours and Susan’s hospitality. I had a thing for your bathroom, I would always spend longer in there than necessary. What would a druids bathroom look like, you might wonder. Yours had clouds on the ceiling and green landscapes on the walls. You only let the closest people stay in your home, and I am grateful for all the times you and Susan honoured me in that way. A magickal cosy room, filled with books and cobwebs. A tiny window, a small mirror, a comfy bed. I was grateful to use that room to get ready for my handfasting. You were old fashioned and believed that women should wear skirts and dresses, but these old fashioned views also meant that you believed a bride should have somewhere to get ready, and so the cosy room was mine. Thank you, my friend. 

We spent a lot of time eating dinner. Many a meal was had at The Red Lion. We’d shout you, and in return you’d sit and sip your ale and recount all sorts of funny stories and snippets of information. The first time you met Justin was early November 2013. I threw a Samhain dinner party, timed as such so that your Samhain Druid duties would be done. You gave me strict dinner instructions, despite me being well aware of the fact you wouldn’t eat anything green. The rest of us were eating red Thai curry with rice and crackers, you had your favourite. Sausages. Not too herby. With mash and carrots. I remember feeling proud that my friend The Big Hairy Druid not only ate it all, but enjoyed it. I was so proud because you were so important to me. You slept on my sofa that night and had breakfast with us, too. Special days I will cherish forever. 

I could go on and on with the stories, I have many memories and for that I know I am truly blessed. Sometimes I sense you around me. Usually when I’m outside and the wind is blowing. I sense you on the wind ~ in the rustle of the bushes and in the movement of the trees. You are in the wildflowers and in the orange morning light. You are there when the Sun goes down, and you attend my magick circle bringing all the love and wisdom of my magickal ancestors. 

You are there when I think “I’d love to show Terry this.” You inhabit my waking thoughts, and bring peace when I feel alone. I can’t thank you enough for being one of the good souls inhabiting my world, and I’ll honour you by trying to be the best person I can and by enjoying my life to the full. 

You shall never be forgotten. Your name will ring out amongst Pagans, Druids and Friends for many years to come. 

In much love and respect, Terry, until we meet again.