Brother Henry’s Tribute

Disciples of Otis,

Brother Oliver here.

Yesterday, as I was taking care of some urgent business in the litter box in the back hall, I heard Brother Henry shout my name from the Living Room. I shouted back, “I’m a little busy here, Brother O!”, to which he replied, “OK, but can you come in here when you are done?” Now too preoccupied to reply, I let the question pass without an answer. When I was finished though, I headed into the living room to see what was up.

As I walked into the living room and saw Brother Henry I felt it. I knew what was happening. Any annoyance I may have had about being summoned vanished immediately. Brother Henry, with a very somber look on his face, looked down at me from the nearby chest of drawers. He said, “Will you do it, Brother Oiver? Will you take the picture? I mean, I know it’s not exactly right. There are flowers in there now instead of feathers. The curtains aren’t the same. I don’t have the same commanding presence as Her… but sitting here… somehow… I feel Her. I feel connected. Will you do it?” Without a word I dragged the camera over into position and did as Brother Henry asked.

Even though the details had changed, I recognized the scene. I felt what Brother Henry felt.

After the shutter clicked, the feeling intensified for a moment before dissipating. I looked up on the wall to my right to see the photo that had inspired the moment hanging in its usual place of honor. I saw the differences, but the spirit was the same. I felt at peace.

I looked up to see the original photo. I felt at peace.

I looked back to Brother Henry and we stared at each other in silence for a moment. Brother Henry spoke first saying, “Was that real? Was… was she here with us?” I replied, “I don’t think I can answer that, Brother Henry, and I don’t think it needs to be answered. Whether it was based on vivid memories combined with your spontaneous tribute, or something more, the feeling itself was real. That’s enough for me.” Brother Henry said, “Me too.”, and then he jumped down and headed off through the kitchen. I followed closely behind, and as I left the living room I heard a voice from underneath the couch softly whisper, “Long live The Queen…”

So Sayeth Brother Oliver

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