Grief

Grief
By Dale Cusack 1996 (c)

The light quivered off the shiny, new, yellow raincoat as the small boy
hopped between puddles. It had been raining now for a long time. I
turned my attention away from the window for a moment to check the
door. She was late. Why hadn't she come? She always came about this
time, damn her! The thudding of several large drops detaching from the
gutter and splashing into the flowerpot below brought me back to the
window. The boy had gone and the scene was now lifeless, without
colour, movement or the sound of laughter. It grew quiet again.

My mind wandered, thoughts surfaced and rippled slowly outwards before
dissolving back into the stillness, none of them staying, none of them
important. Then in a palette of colour, the memory was back, vying for
my attention, attention that should be elsewhere. No matter how hard I
tried to fight, it always succeeded, sneaking in behind a familiar
sound or smell. It would come and then, I would remember. She's not
late. She's not coming.

The rain had increased. Massive pools were now swallowing up all the
smaller puddles, forming great lakes of water. The expanse of grass
that the morning knew now swallowed in flood. I cast my mind out,
trying to reel in the memories. Funny, when I wanted them to come, they
would not. Just snatches, glimpses of the times we shared. Nothing
concrete, nothing to hold onto, nothing to savour.

My eyes, like the clouds, make puddles of their own, a tear. The
betrayer of my emotions struts brazenly down my cheek. Worthless, she's
not here to see it. Would she have understood it anyway? Did she know
my feelings for her? How much I loved her. Could she understand? I know
how she felt. At least I believe I did. She wouldn't have stayed, had
she not liked me. But she did stay, and we kept each other company. I
might read to her, or if I was fortunate, and she in a jovial mood, she
might have played one of her games for me.

I turned back inside. The emptiness, consuming in its nothingness
engulfs me. I feel imprisoned. I should have not got so close. I should
have kept a cold distance. I had become too dependent on her company.
How long has it been now? How long since we played, worked and slept
together?

I tried to recall the last time I saw her. I was working at my
computer. She was sitting at my side in the coolie chair, watching me.
I did not speak, merely looked at her and laughed. I loved her so much.
That night she went out. She didn't come home for tea. She wasn't home
by the toast and coffee hour of the next day either. I was worried. I
missed her.

I kept going to the door to check the drive, but there was no sign of
her return. Day fell into night and she was still not back. I was
concerned about her medication, her eye drops. Glaucoma had left her
with only partial sight in one eye and the need for ongoing treatment.
Two days passed before I found her.

It's been 4 years now, since I last saw her. I still think of her, and
miss her very much. All I have left, apart from my cherished memories,
is her collar and bell. It doesn't tinkle anymore. The car saw to that
too.