The Widow’s Gift, part three

Taking a deep breath, Claudia calmed her nerves and picked up Abe’s letter once again.

It was always my intent to outlive you my love so that you never had to face the pain and sorrow of my passing alone.  Because I know you my dearest love, you have isolated yourself from family and friends and have suppressed your grief and anger until everyone truly believed you were alright.  I know you, I know you’re sobbing as you struggle to read this through your tears.  Let it go love, cry and let the emotion out before it eats you alive.

Claudia read the last sentence and despite her valiant efforts to control the crying, the gut wrenching tears and loneliness returned.  She fled her comfortable chair and got up and went into their bedroom.  She grabbed her stuffed lamb she had since childhood and curled up on Abe’s side of the bed and just let the grief and tears consume her.  She made no effort to stifle the sobs or bury the anger.  She clutched Lambie and Abe’s pillow and cried herself to sleep.

Claudia awoke a couple of hours later, still curled up on Abe’s side of the bed.  She inhaled deeply and a wave of loneliness hit her as she realized that his scent had almost completely faded from the pillow.  Lacking the energy to scream her refusal to accept she would never again smell her husband’s scent was just one small sign of acceptance of his death.  Claudia sat up and headed for the shower.  She was tired and sore from the tension and emotional roller coaster of the last month.  On the spur of the moment, she turned on the tub and decided a good soak would relax her.  As the tub filled, Claudia jumped into the shower and washed her hair.  Her hair was wrapped in a soft, fluffy turquoise towel as she eased herself into the steaming hot, vanilla scented bathwater. 

Squeaky made an appearance but fled as soon as he realized that the bathtub was full.  Claudia smiled at his predictable behavior and sank further into the blistering heat of the bath.  The hot water worked miracles on her tense and sore muscles and slowly the pent up emotional energy seeped from her into the bathwater.  As she sat there, letting the water melt away the tension Claudia smiled slowly to herself. 

Abe loved to take baths, he could soak in the tub for hours without reading a book or listening to a ball game.  Claudia, on the other hand, had to read or listen to a ball game if she had any chance of staying in a bath for more than twenty minutes.  Abe used to come in with a luscious Lemon Drop and perch on the side of the tub and talk on those rare occasion when Claudia took a bath during their marriage.  She always knew he was trying to delay her into soaking longer but they both knew the stall tactic only worked as long as her drink lasted.  It was a pleasant and happy memory, no hint of sadness.

As she stepped from the tub and wrapped herself in a matching towel, Claudia shook her graying hair free from its towel.  Quickly bringing some semblance of order to her hair, Claudia dried herself off and climbed into a pair of her lounge around and do nothing pajama pants and a t-shirt.  These particular pajama pants were flannel and covered in owls dancing on branches and she had pulled on one of Abe’s t-shirts without thinking about it.  It came half-way down her thigh and was much to large for her, but it was comforting and familiar.

Her bare feet were soundless as the sank into the plush carpet, and once again Claudia was very thankful she had “won” that argument with Abe.  Abe’s letter had tumbled to the floor when she fled the room several hours ago.  Picking up the letter, she realized for the first time that it was several pages in length as the moonlight started to flood the room.  Her curiosity was now much stronger than the emotional torment the letter represented.  What could have been so important that Abe, not known for his handwritten letters, would write one to her from the grave?  She settled back into her chair and turned on her lamp so that she could read the letter.

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Dragon's Head Village: The Birth of a Friendship, part one

Crispin and Arsenic quickly made their way back to the village, each intent on making a better future for the village.  Crispin flew straight for the herb garden that grew at Buttercup’s tail, still not believing that this insane plan concocted by Arsenic was viable.  Arsenic held on tightly to the fur around Crispin’s neck, straining to see over the dragon’s head and failing to see anything more than trees whizzing by.

The village came into view and Crispin slowed his flight, being more careful to avoid being seen by villagers out and about.  Arsenic tightened his hold and leaned down close to one of Crispin’s ears and said, “There he is, Flinn.  Stop on the outskirts of the garden so we don’t startle him.”

Crispin nodded his head to indicate he understood and came gliding to a stop on the very outskirt of the herb garden.  The rosemary and lavender were in bloom and the garden smelled wonderful to Crispin.  Arsenic slid off the dragon and regained his equilibrium as his wings fluttered open and lifted him just off the ground.  He glanced around and didn’t spy any villagers, besides Flinn, in the garden.

“Let me go talk to him first, alright?”  Arsenic’s voice was whispered and hurried.

“Alright, but if this is going to work then I need to meet the boy and get a sense of his personality.”  Crispin growled in return.

Arsenic nodded his head and fluttered off.  Crispin watched as the crimson wings fluttered toward the child, a moving red flash among a sea of green leaves and purple flowers.  He was still dubious about the whole plan but he was willing to give Arsenic the benefit of the doubt.

Arsenic flew toward Flinn, going over the plan in his head and offering a silent plea that his instincts were true.  He approached Flinn and smiled as he heard the lad humming to himself.  He waited patiently until the tune was completed and then he perched on the lad’s shoulder.

“Hi Flinn, that was a beautiful tune.”

Flinn spun around looking for the familiar voice but somehow Arsenic always managed to remain just out of view.  Arsenic laughed and then fluttered up and into view.  Flinn laughed, “Howdy Arsenic, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Flinn was a small boy for his age, slim with pale brown hair and laughing green eyes that seemed to laugh of their own accord.  He was holding a basket filled with various herbs and flowers for his mother undoubtedly.  He seemed content but people saw what they wanted to see.

“I have been thinking about our last talk.  Did you mean what you said?  Do you really want to help make life here better?”

Flinn nodded his head vigorously, his brown hair sliding into his eyes.  “I’m bored.  Mother doesn’t think I have any potential but I just know she’s wrong.  I know all kinds of things but I don’t necessarily want to spend my days and nights brewing potions.”

Arsenic smiled and settled back down on Flinn’s shoulder.  “Do you know Crispin?”

Flinn shivered and nodded his head, “I know of him but I’ve never met him.  People say he is a terror but somehow I find that hard to believe.  After all, how fearsome and terrifying can a kitty cat dragon be?”

Arsenic heard this and also heard Crispin come roaring out of the edge of the garden where he had been waiting.  Arsenic had to give Flinn credit, he didn’t flinch as the white fur ball came hurtling toward him, teeth bared, eyes flashing angrily.  Flinn stood his ground and watched the show Crispin was putting on.  He was utterly unfazed by the display of anger and threat, instead waiting patiently for the posturing to end.

“You must be ‘The Terror of the Village’.  I’m Flinn, pleased to meet you.”  His outstretched hand was covered in dirt and grime which he didn’t even try to brush off.

Crispin stared at the outstretched hand, curious about what was expected of him.  Arsenic burst out laughing and whispered something in Flinn’s ear.

Flinn shook his head and lowered his hand saying, “Sorry about that I wasn’t thinking.  What is the proper greeting for a dragon?”

Crispin stared up, this was a question he had never been asked and didn’t know the proper answer too.  He sat down and stared up at Flinn pondering the answer.

 

The Widow's Gift, part two

Claudia petted Squeaky and stared at the letter in her hands, her gaze unfocused and absent minded.  She let the memories of the past month wash over her, like an ice cold shower cold, hard and unrelenting.  Abe’s death, the sterile white walls of the hospital, the packed pews of St. Matt’s for his funeral service, and the finality of the dirt hitting his casket.  There was laughter and family and friends at his wake which brought comfort and sorrow at the same time.  Their friends and family brought Abe’s memory to life through their stories and laughter.  She would cherish those moments most of all, the laughter brought hope that life hadn’t evaporated along with the love of her life.

And now, in the stillness of their house there was just Claudia and her memories.  Squeaky nudged closer, feeling her emotional turmoil and trying to offer comfort in the only matter he knew how.  Abe’s letter stared up at her, she could hear his voice in her head telling her to read the letter but still she struggled to open the letter.  “I am being foolish,” she whispered softly.  “I know he is never coming home and yet, I can’t bring myself to accept that in my heart.”  Her tears slid silently down her checks, the wracking sobs were gone and all that was left was the silent grief that slowly comes with acceptance.

As the tears slowed, Claudia fingered Abe’s letter.  Running her finger repeatedly over Abe’s handwriting, unconsciously shaking her head at the familiar scrawl.  He had written so few letters to her throughout their marriage that regardless of what was contained in this letter, she would cherish the letter as the last physical contact from Abe.  Claudia squirmed in her chair and Squeaky picked this moment to flee.

“No sense putting off the inevitable” Claudia sighed and her hand trembled as she picked up the letter.  Her hand shook so badly with emotion that she struggled to gain control of her hand as she reached for the letter opener.  Her hand shook as she sliced open the letter and slipped the letter out.  It tumbled onto her lap and stared up demanding nothing and yet requiring her heart and soul to open.

She picked up the letter and as her hand trembled, she opened the letter and saw Abe’s handwriting staring back at her.

My Dearest Love,

If you are reading this, please know that I love you more than words can ever express.  I know that if you are reading this than unfortunately, I left this world before you.  Know that I have done my best to provide for you in that event and that I love you still.

The letter fluttered from her hands and fell into her lap.  The tears once again fell unchecked down her checks and she made no effort to staunch their flow.  She said a silent prayer as the tears fell, “God grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

The familiar prayer was comforting but if she were honest with herself and God, Claudia would have preferred the comfort of Abe’s strong arms holding her tight to whispered prayers for strength.

The Widow’s Gift, part one

The car pulled into the driveway and into the garage, the tension smacked Claudia like she had just run into a brick wall at speed.  She somehow had managed to remain calm and relaxed on the drive home from the meeting, but that colossal effort came to an end as soon as she was safely at home.  As the garage door closed behind her, the tears began to slip down her checks unchecked and she made no effort to staunch the flow of tears as she gathered her purse and headed inside.

Claudia slipped her shoes off the moment she got inside, her feet had been trapped long enough in the heels.  The feel of her toes sinking into the carpet was something of a relief.  It immediately eased the tension  but did not stop the tide of tears.  As she dropped her shoes and purse behind her, she made  her way to her favorite reading chair.  The chair was old but much loved.  It had been built by her great-grandfather to accommodate him and his two children on either side of him as he read to them.  It’s broad base and winged back made a great place to curl up and lose yourself in a great mystery or to sit and stitch while watching sports or movies.  The chair had just been reupholstered last month and Claudia loved the large floral pattern she had chosen.

As she sank into the familiar comfort of the chair, her cat Squeaky jumped up and demanded attention.  As she absent mindedly petted him, she stared at the letter in her hand.  The lawyer had handed her the letter after the reading of the will was concluded.  Claudia was unsure she wanted to open the letter, afraid that the contents would be too much and that grief and loneliness would overwhelm her.  The house was so empty now, so silent.  Over the last month, Claudia had been busy with arrangements and family and had put off her own grieving but she knew that now it was time to come to grips with the emptiness.

The tears slowly began to stop, to tired to continue to cry Claudia dried her eyes and blew her nose.  Squeaky settled down beside her, his bulk a comforting weight against her hip.  The letter lay in her lap, her husband’s scrawl staring up at her from the envelope,  “My dearest love”.   Claudia couldn’t do this, not now.  The wound was too fresh and too raw, if she opened the letter then she was admitting that he would never walk through the door again, never kiss her goodnight, or tease her about being short.  She knew he  was gone rationally but her heart still was not ready to let go and deal with the grief. 

As fresh tears rolled down her face, Claudia relieved the knock on the door and the agonizing trip to the hospital.  There looking paler than she had ever seen him lay her husband of thirty years.  He reached his hand out and squeezed as hard as he could when she laid her hand in his but for the first time, there was no strength in his grip and Claudia panicked.  She barely remembered leaning down to kiss him and tell him how deeply she loved him before being shoved out of the room as medical equipment began to screaming alarms.  Staring in that tiny window in the door, not knowing if he would make it was the hardest thing she had ever faced until suddenly the medical alarms fell silent and the medical team stepped away from him.  She screamed and flew into the room, her terror and grief were palpable to the medical staff that caught her as she lunged for him.

Claudia pulled free of the nurse that had caught her and crawled into bed, laying next to him.  She covered him in kisses, talking to him constantly, pleading with him to come back to her and not leave her alone like this.  There was no response, no familiar heartbeat in his chest, no ruffling of her hair as her head lay on his chest.  Eventually the door to the room opened again and this time it admitted her brother, Paul.  He sat silently on the other side of the bed and eventually started talking to Claudia.  She barely heard him, she was so angry and so scared that it wasn’t possible to have a rational conversation with her brother.  Some joyriding teenager just stole the most precious thing from her and it was never going to be ok again.