October is here. The greenery fades, and the cold winds begin to blow. The hot days of summer are giving way to chilly mornings that make our bones hurt. We begin to dread the coming of the cold and dreary time when living things seem to die all around us. Man has endured all of this by keeping the fires burning throughout the night, locking their door and curling up with a good book. Some of us like to read gay stories with happy ever-afters, while there are many of us that prefer the kind that give you goosebumps and make you scared to walk across the room and turn out the light. I’m going to tell you a story that won’t end until just before Halloween. I’ll let you decide which of those kinds of stories it is. (Note: The following is a five-part story of fiction. No person, living or dead, is represented. The fear, however, is real.)
She died on a Tuesday. They said it was an aneurism. She’d complained of a headache for three days. She did that often, but neither of us thought it was so serious. Her last day on this earth was spent trying on dresses for our grandson’s upcoming wedding. I was in the yard, clearing branches after a thunderstorm the night before, and found her in a crumpled heap in front of her full-length mirror in our bedroom. Grace would have turned sixty-two in September. She died alone and left me the same way.
Sloane, our grandson, postponed the wedding. His fiancé, Gloria, was understanding and patient. She knew that her betrothed and his grandmother were very close and that his heart was shattered. They lost the deposit on their dream venue, but the winery graciously allowed them to reset the date without another deposit. We buried Grace on a cold and windy late September morning. I had them dress her in the pink and white dress that she’d last worn. She was as beautiful as death would allow her to be. My only memory of the funeral was the closing of the casket lid as I sat for an eternity on that front pew, knowing that I’d never see Grace again. It was a startling realization in that moment. The love of my life was gone. The noise of the lid closing was barely audible to those around me. To me the noise was a deafening crescendo, as a mountain fell between us. My Grace was gone.
That was nearly six months ago. My daughter called me yesterday to tell me about the new date for the wedding. It was less than a week away. I didn’t need to do anything, just dress and show up. My daughter Sara called, or came by the house, almost daily since Grace passed. She knew I had withdrawn from the world and tried so hard to get me out of the house. It had been a tough winter. We’d spent most of our lives in that house. I took care of the maintenance, and repair, as best I could. I’m not much of a handy man, but it’s still standing. Grace did everything else. She made that house come alive. She decorated it with love and good taste. She wisely allowed me keep all of my gaudy trophies and memorabilia in my office, along with my books. I spent almost all of my time in there nowadays, staring through the window in front of my desk. Waiting on what, I didn’t know.
I walked into our old bedroom, still cold and dark since her death, and flipped the light on. I passed the mirror that watched me go into the spacious walk-in closet and retrieve my one good suit and dress shoes. Ignoring my own reflection, I returned to the doorway and turned to look into the room we’d once shared a lifetime ago. My eyes fell upon the bed, covered in the same homemade quilt she’d bought on our anniversary, years ago. I glanced at her side table, her glasses still there. The room was as she’d left it, and me, six months ago. As I flipped the light switch off to leave, knowing I couldn’t bear to stay, I saw her standing in the mirror. In the millisecond of time it took for the light to go off after I flipped the switch, she was standing there, in that pink and white dress, her hands smoothing out the dress along her side, and her smile as bright as day. I turned the light back on at once, but the mirror held only the empty room, with me staring across the room.
To be continued…
Rolling Stones 