Something from reality.
Note : all names here are fake.
For those who believe love lasts forever and comes around again...
“No one loves like a dead memory, Susan. I can’t compete!” Gage said, and stormed from the house.
Susan pushed Gage’s words into the back of her mind. Three years wasn’t long
enough after twenty years of marriage. Three years was an honoring of memory. Gage expected too much from her. She looked at the pictures of Victor around the room. She’d spent a life-time with him yet it wasn’t long enough. How can you place a time limit on love or a memory?
Susan went to the drawer. The locked drawer she kept of Victor. After unlocking and opening it, she ran a hand over what she’d saved of him. She settled on the scarf he wore around his neck in the winter, a favorite blue shirt, a black tee-shirt that had fit a bit snug; she picked up each, held it to her nose, inhaled deeply; each held his aroma and a touch of Aramis cologne. The entire drawer smelled of her Victor. Susan’s senses became alive with him. The letter lay between the folds of the shirt. Over the years Victor showed his love in many ways gifts of jewelry, candy, flowers and cards, trips to exotic places but words never came easy, actions took precedent. The letter was as precious to Susan as diamonds to other women. The letter lay beside their wedding announcement of so many
years ago.
She heard the words her mother spoke on that very wedding day. Victor’s a diamond in the rough, Susan. Rough diamonds can cut be very careful. You don’t need to go through with this. Her mother had given an out to her on that beautiful May morning, but Susan loved the top layer that passed for roughness as much as the gentleness beneath. She loved with the free abandonment of twenty youthful years and as she aged and grew, so had her love.
With the letter in hand, Susan went to the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, then went into the dining room where she and Victor shared meals. She placed the letter down and lit the candles which stood in crystal candlesticks on the table. She sat down, took a sip of wine and savored the taste. She looked upon the living room which had held the hospital like bed. Victor had spent his last days in that bed. Cancer had taken his six foot, two hundred pound frame and turned it into a skeleton weighing one-hundred and twenty five. For awhile Susan would help him into their bed at night, but when things became bad he’d spend day and night in that bed. She’d bathe him until she could no longer do it, then nursing aides took over. In his last days, he’d worry about her.
“I want you to marry again. You shouldn’t stay alone,” his breath gasping, his body shaking.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be alright. I’m strong.” She didn’t feel strong though, she felt like
she was dying too.
One day while Susan was at work, Victor told Angie the hospice nurse. “It’s my day today. I want to shower and dress.”
“You need to come home right now!” She heard Angie choke back tears.
Susan didn’t remember telling her boss Jim, but he told her later she refused the offer of a ride home. She didn’t remember the drive home; automatic pilot had taken over. Victor had already died by the time she arrived home.
Angie told her about Victor’s request that morning. “It was as though he knew,
Susan, and waited until you left for work.”
Though kind, those words had held little solace. She’d cried, held him. They called her sister. It was Cathy who called the mortuary. The week before Susan had forced herself to make the arrangements that Victor had wanted. She remembered kissing Victor’s cold lips; she remembered them taking him away; she remembered chasing everyone out of her house; she remembered the need to be alone, totally alone in their home. The bed sat there empty, tears stained her face. She poured a glass of wine then too. The door bell had rung interrupting a broken spirit. She went to the door thinking it was a neighbor, friend, her boss; someone who’d heard. Bad news traveled fast, she’d thought. It had been a delivery of her favorite flowers, wild and beautiful. Someone had worked fast, she remembered thinking. She took the flowers and put them on the dining room table and sat down. She remembered being amazed that there was still beauty left in the world when her world had shattered. She reached for the card. That’s when she recognized the handwriting, though shaky, it was Victor’s. The flowers, the card; it was Valentine’s Day. This was his last gift to her. She opened the card and the letter fell out. Even three years later the remembrance still sent chills through her.
Susan opened the letter to read again.
My Dear Love,
Thank you for all you have done. Angels walk among us
and you were always mine. We have been together through
the good and bad. This is the worse of it, but I am alright
and I don’t want you to be sad. I don’t want you to be alone either.
I want for you; life, love and to be as happy as you’ve always been.
I’m not good with words, you know this. When love comes to you
again, he will be an angel. Open your heart and let him in.
I’ll be with you too.
I love you forever and always,
Victor
Susan ran fingers over the words, then brought the letter to her lips. A woman can be lucky enough to have two great loves in one lifetime, she thought. She decided it was time. She rose from the table and put the letter back into the drawer. The front door opened and she knew it was Gage. Love didn’t leave and she’d known he wouldn’t.
“Susan,” Gage called from the front of the house.
“Coming,” She closed the drawer that was Victor, then went to greet Gage.
“I couldn’t stay away. I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.” he held out a box for her to take.
“I love you, Gage. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
As their hands touch, they came into each other’s arms and kissed. He gave her a watch with words engraved on the back; Love waits forever. Susan knew she was a lucky woman; she had love, time and angels did indeed walk this world.
