For Whom the Bell Tolls

One of the things I really love is the sound of bells, especially the church one's.
I have mentioned before that I am quite sensitive (in a positive sense) to low tones, so I generally prefer sad piano tunes to those quick ones, tenor recorder to the soprano, violoncello to the violin, big drums to the small ones. But the sound of the bells always and reliably makes the deepest strings inside my soul ring in an undescribable way. I therefore love walking through the city streets especially at certain times - when the church bells chime. The sound always brings peaceful and harmonic thoughts to me, no matter how sad or tired I am. At such moments I feel somehow strangely connected with the rest of the universe, I forget all grievances, I feel no anger, no pain ...
And I remember such moments. I remember the feeling of every noon and every midnight, every six o'clock I was listening to the voice of bells, whether it was in Prague, Rome, in the mountains or on the seashore...

Today, I was at the cemetery with my family, bringing flowers to the grave of my grandfather, who died on September 2nd four years ago. This particular graveyard is a nice place, in a peaceful coutryside, with nice views and trees around, and there are corners in it, which paradoxically seem to attract life. Last time I went to water the flowers on the grave with my uncle, we saw a bunch of colourful buterflies near the pump. Yesterday, my uncle dicsovered a cute hedgehog baby at the same place. So, I said a short prayer for my grandpa, but if I was crying, it was more because of my sore eye than out of sorrow. I felt, that it is good place for my grandad to have a rest.
At six o'clock in the evening, I was in a church with my granny, to say some more prayers. The darkness of the place was in a big contrast to the graveyard. I was thinking of my grandad, but also of many other people I love, care about or used to love and care about. And of my sins, of course. It just comes to you at such places, whether you are a member of some Church or not.
And then, when the bells started to chime, I suddenly couldn't stop the tears running down my face anymore. I was not sure whether the bells were speaking to me, about me, whether they were saying goodbye to those whom I knew were leaving, whether they were presaging the ends or the beginnings... One shouldn't be asking such questions, after all. I just knew that there must be a good reason why they were chosen to be a connection between people and God.

Just listen. Maybe you'll understand, too.