CROSSING THE BRIDGE

bridge

For many years, George and Ida had talked about “crossing the bridge.”  George’s dad “crossed the bridge” eighteen years ago; his mom eight years later.  Friends were almost all over eighty and the time had come for them to cross the bridge.

But it was only six months ago that they knew they had to prepare for Ida to leave – to cross the bridge.  They remembered songs about the great divide; they recalled that Jesus was sometimes referred to as “The Bridge” between life and death.  They began trying to make the bridge look attractive.  They sanded out the splinters and polished it with symbols of gold and silver, precious gems, and hallowed memories of those who had gone before.  But it never could really look appealing.  She didn’t want to go and he didn’t want her to.  But now she had crossed.  She was gone – gone forever.

One man crossed the bridge and returned after three days.  He gave hope about the other side.  That was some of the polishing they had done, recalling his story.  But Ida still did not want to go.  As she was leaving, George wanted to go with her.  What would he do with Ida gone?  What would he do left all alone?  But he couldn’t go; it was not his time.

So now he sat thinking.  She was gone; he was left.  He would do what he had to do.  He got up to call 911.   Someone had to take care of the body lying in the bed.  Ida had left it.

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https://athling2001.wordpress.com/2018/07/02/jsw-prompt-7-2-2018/

About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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16 Responses to CROSSING THE BRIDGE

  1. pranabaxom says:

    Sad but that’s reality.

  2. Mukhamani says:

    Loved the words crossing the bridge. We believe the soul lives on after the death of the body. I believe this to be true as long as we remember someone even if they are no more with us. Regards

  3. atimetoshare.me says:

    Oh my I wasn’t expecting that ending.

  4. calmkate says:

    poignant .. like ‘the crossing the bridge’ analogy … a real issue for us as we age 🙂

  5. Faye says:

    Poignantly beautiful. For all of us as we progressively age it is REALITY. I’m so thankful Jesus points THE WAY for all who will accept Him.

  6. oneta hayes says:

    So true. And he really is the Way.

  7. calensariel says:

    This is so wonderful, Oneta! What a surprising ending! I loved it! ❤

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