From the Keeper of the Meadow

My dearest …,

I meet them at the gate, every one of them, and I wanted you to hear it from me rather than wonder. They arrived. They were not frightened and they were not on their own for any part of it. I have their name written down beside yours: .

I will not tell you not to be sad, . You loved somebody and they are not here any more, and being sad about that is the correct thing to be — it is not a mistake and it is not something to get over quickly. The size of how much this hurts is exactly the size of how much you loved them. That is not a coincidence. It is the same number, measured twice.

They are well here. Whatever hurt has stopped hurting. The meadow is warm and there is a great deal of running and the grass is long, and they have not forgotten you — that is the one thing nobody here ever forgets. They know your name and they know your voice, and every so often they stop and look back towards the gate.

I was told about , and about how you were with them at the end of it. You did the kind thing even though it was the hard thing, and I want you to hold on to that on the days it feels otherwise.

With very great care for you today,
from the top of the meadow —

The Keeper of the Meadow

Who Meets Them at the Gate

P.S. — Talking about them is allowed. It does not upset them and it will not make it worse. They rather like being mentioned.