Thank you, Chloe. It’s fascinating to know this is your experience in working with people as they near the end. There’s only credit when it comes to you and the influence you’ve had on all of us as we think about death and what comes beyond.
So moving Ben. Such a gentle, kind, earnest, and deeply transcendent look at death. I’ve always wondered about whether we reconnect with loved ones upon our passing, and mostly leaning toward not, though my heart hopes I am wrong. Your story turned my hope into a feeling, a yes, it can be true, it has to be true. In your story, it’s love that makes it so. And who am I to question love?
Thank you, Kimberly. I want to believe it’s true. I want to believe that we’re all connected even when we don’t accept it here in this existence. There must be more than we understand.
That ending, Ben. Deep sigh. What a brilliant story, and one that resonated so much. It’s so common, at the end, for people to start asking for their passports, or getting worried that they don’t know where their ticket is, or if they’d finished packing, ready for their journey ahead, so the train was just so perfect. I love that this came to you so quickly. The accompanying music is gorgeous. There’s so much death in the air at the moment. Thank you for not laying the blame at my doorstep ;)
Love this line, Ben: "Danny, she said, touching his cheek. There’s no leaving and you’ve left nothing undone. You’ll see how it works. It’s all connected. Everything you thought was separate, it’s not." Although I have a very different idea of what happens, it does share the comfort and gentleness of the vision you've shown, and the sentiment in that line.
I listened to this while talking a quick breath of air at lunch time, walking through clouds of cow parsley with this beautifully moving story told in your gentle way, was for want of an better word… like floating, like being touched by angels….
A gorgeous narration of a subject that I often (more and more as I grow older) ponder the answer to. I hope there is a train coming for me, I really do…
Aw, thanks so much Susie. I'm glad the story felt that way to you. I was hoping for a peaceful, dreamy quality like floating so that makes me happy. Thanks for sharing the vivid image of where you were listening. I can picture it.
So different in storytelling style than other work I read from you. At the same time I can recognize the quiet gentleness of your writing, the way you observe the fine details. Beautiful imagination of what comes after death.
If I’m being brutally honest, it’s probably because it’s the newest thing I’ve written! But I do like the layers in this one, how it reveals itself. But I fully accept that we are often the worst judge of our own work
It makes sense because to me you're a very lyrical writer and the storytelling in this one allows you to exploit this side of your writing to the maximum.
I think you're not alone in spending more and more time thinking about death and what it means. But that is not necessarily a bad thing.
My favourite passage is your closing line, actually. "...the clouds passing overhead reflected in his eyes and on the water which he had become without knowing."
It's a perfect ending "... which he had become without knowing."
Thank you, Chloe. It’s fascinating to know this is your experience in working with people as they near the end. There’s only credit when it comes to you and the influence you’ve had on all of us as we think about death and what comes beyond.
❤️
So moving Ben. Such a gentle, kind, earnest, and deeply transcendent look at death. I’ve always wondered about whether we reconnect with loved ones upon our passing, and mostly leaning toward not, though my heart hopes I am wrong. Your story turned my hope into a feeling, a yes, it can be true, it has to be true. In your story, it’s love that makes it so. And who am I to question love?
Thank you, Kimberly. I want to believe it’s true. I want to believe that we’re all connected even when we don’t accept it here in this existence. There must be more than we understand.
That ending, Ben. Deep sigh. What a brilliant story, and one that resonated so much. It’s so common, at the end, for people to start asking for their passports, or getting worried that they don’t know where their ticket is, or if they’d finished packing, ready for their journey ahead, so the train was just so perfect. I love that this came to you so quickly. The accompanying music is gorgeous. There’s so much death in the air at the moment. Thank you for not laying the blame at my doorstep ;)
Love this line, Ben: "Danny, she said, touching his cheek. There’s no leaving and you’ve left nothing undone. You’ll see how it works. It’s all connected. Everything you thought was separate, it’s not." Although I have a very different idea of what happens, it does share the comfort and gentleness of the vision you've shown, and the sentiment in that line.
Thank you, Troy. I’m not sure this is what I believe but it’s me trying to figure it out.
I listened to this while talking a quick breath of air at lunch time, walking through clouds of cow parsley with this beautifully moving story told in your gentle way, was for want of an better word… like floating, like being touched by angels….
A gorgeous narration of a subject that I often (more and more as I grow older) ponder the answer to. I hope there is a train coming for me, I really do…
Aw, thanks so much Susie. I'm glad the story felt that way to you. I was hoping for a peaceful, dreamy quality like floating so that makes me happy. Thanks for sharing the vivid image of where you were listening. I can picture it.
So different in storytelling style than other work I read from you. At the same time I can recognize the quiet gentleness of your writing, the way you observe the fine details. Beautiful imagination of what comes after death.
Thank you for reading and commenting Claudia. I’m glad the story spoke to you.
I’m curious, why did you like this story more than other pieces you wrote?
If I’m being brutally honest, it’s probably because it’s the newest thing I’ve written! But I do like the layers in this one, how it reveals itself. But I fully accept that we are often the worst judge of our own work
It makes sense because to me you're a very lyrical writer and the storytelling in this one allows you to exploit this side of your writing to the maximum.
Beautiful story, reading, and music. Thanks Ben
Thanks for checking it out.
Thanks for the mention! And that track really is gorgeous man. Nice work!
Really beautiful and moving, Ben.
I think you're not alone in spending more and more time thinking about death and what it means. But that is not necessarily a bad thing.
My favourite passage is your closing line, actually. "...the clouds passing overhead reflected in his eyes and on the water which he had become without knowing."
It's a perfect ending "... which he had become without knowing."
Thanks, Nathan. I worked for a while on that closing sentence. I’m glad it landed.
It very much did :)