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Far below in the valley, the brilliant glow of a rainbow rose. It arched gracefully
over our path and descended into the misty valley on the far side. The colours
seemed to pulsate as they grew in intensity until they were viscous, almost solid.
Above, the clouds parted to reveal a misty blue sky. The rain cleared. I felt a
warm sensation on my shoulder, like a hand, and the shivering ceased. The mist
rolled away in great billowing swirls to reveal the rocky mountainside, which
glistened like dew on a clear winter's morning. In the distance, myriad peaks rose
like emerald-green islands from a white sea.
'It's Bruce, Tim. It's really Bruce!' Neil cried, a smile erupting across his face.
Tears flowed and I broke into a croaky, relentless laugh.
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And what's more … I believed it.
Bruce was far from gone. I am not religious or a believer in mysticism, but what I
saw, whether contrived by our minds or not, will remain with me for the rest of my
life. I promised myself in that moment that I would never view the world without
the magical and enchanting perspective that Bruce had graced us with.
We turned to climb further up the slope and into a light veil of mist that curled
over the ridge. The sun burnt through and appeared as a silvery disc in the sky
above the peak. The wet rocks on the ridge reflected the glow like a series of glit-
tering quartz.
'This is it, Tim. The light, the walking up to greater things. Only that bugger
Bruce up there, as usual, is striding ahead!' Neil shouted.
The mist felt warm for a few minutes. Neil walked ahead and his silhouette
melted into the glowing white. Now and then a thick plume of vapour rushed over
the ridge and he was temporarily erased from sight. The sun had retreated behind
thick cloud by the time we arrived on the summit, and the rocks appeared dull and
lifeless.
'Even though he has died, I can feel him trying to make me happy,' I said, after
a long silence.
'I know, Tim. I feel the same. Everyone is so sad, but it's crazy. It's not the end
… it's just the beginning. I just have to wait until it's my turn and we are reunited,'
Neil replied.
The funeral passed like a celebration. Rita commented that it felt as if it should
have been a wedding. When it was all over I sat up the back of a National Express
bus as it pulled out of Glasgow. It was an overcast day and rain fell in light, random
showers.
