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.
No comments:
Post a Comment