*This story was for a forum contest. The contest was to base a story on a song.The song I was assigned was "Walking her Home," By: Mark Schultz. I wrote it so it would not be exactly like the song, but if you've heard the song, understand the inspiration from lyrics to story. Sorry about the tabbing, it wasn't coming through all the way when I submitted this. Tabbs or not, enjoy!*
It was a Sunday afternoon when he sat by his wife's bedside for the last time. Her eyes were closed peacefully and her white hair that used to be strawberry blonde framed her heart shaped-face. She was just as beautiful as ever, even while she was sleeping. He wished her to wake up so they could talk, but he knew that it was best for her to sleep. She needed her rest.
One of her hands was laid across her heart and the other was by her side. Her wedding ring from the hand by her side sparkled as it caught a ray of the afternoon sun from the window. He lightly traced the wrinkles on her hand, remembering a time before the end. He fingered the wedding ring he had given her on their wedding day. It was simple. A silver band with a single diamond in the center. It was all he could afford then. Nothing special to somebody with a full wallet, but the most loving gift a man can give to his wife on their wedding day.
Her nails were perfectly manicured, just as they always were, he noted. He laced his strong fingers through her delicate ones. They used to be so strong and lively, able to play any instrument imaginable. He pressed his wife's hand to his cheek and gingerly kissed her soft hand, just as he did that first night they were together.
The stars had been as bright as her amber eyes. It was too perfect that night. A gentle summer breeze had blown through the streets as he walked her home. She had laughed and that's when he knew; that's when he knew that he loved her with all his heart. Then he took her hand. She had first looked down at their fingers intertwining, then up at him.
He blinked back the threatening tears, suddenly thrusting him into the present. That was sixty years ago, not now. He couldn't let her go tonight, even though he knew it was selfish of him. It was her time, afterall. She knew. He knew. Their son knew. The doctors knew.
The strange thing about an imminent death and departure of a loved one is that it's hard to accept. When it comes suddenly, in the middle of life, it's a jolt into reality. The kin left behind cry out, "It's too soon! They still had so much life in them!" But when it approaches slowly, creeping out of the shadows, the one departing accepts the truth. However, the people closest to them become selfish and hold onto them with all of their strength. In this instance, everyone except the one person closest to her had accepted the approaching farewell and paid their respects. Her husband was the only being she was holding onto life for. Not because she wasn't ready, she was, but because he wasn't prepared for her goodbye.
His tears trickled down her fingers, making their way down her hand, and down her arm.
"I can't, I can't," was all he could whisper to the silent room.
Her chest rose in a deep breath as she stirred in her sleep. Her eyes flickered open. She had been awaken by the warm, dribbling sensation on her left arm. Her heart ached at the sight of her husband silently crying, holding her hand. She watched him, without a word, remembering the last time he had cried fifty years ago. She was amazed how one man could hold in or hide his tears for fifty years. It would be near impossible for her to accomplish such a feat, she laughed to herself soundlessly.
Her face had been coated in beads of sweat, but she was feeling much better at the time because she was able to breathe deep fresh breaths without contractions. A nurse had handed her a small bundle that reached out to her with mitt-covered hands. The nurse asked her if she should fetch the father and she consented saying that he would be over the moon to meet his son. Her husband entered instantly. His knees shook slightly and he smiled enthusiastically, glowing with pride. She handed their son to him as he stood by her side. As he had taken the infant into his arms, he smiled with his eyes crinkling around the edges, pushing out the tears as he held his son for the first time.
She didn't say anything now. He was shy about this sort of emotion, and he always strived to never show tears in front of anyone.
"Don't leave me. I won't be able to..." He cried into her hand, unaware that his wife was silently observing.
"I won't leave until you are ready." She promised.
Their eyes met suddenly, both of their expressions solemn and serious.
"I'll never be ready, you're all I live for."
"You'll be ready in time. And I am not the last person on this earth who cares for you. You have a son who has a family, and they love their Grandpa with all of their hearts."
He turned his gaze away, realizing how selfish he was being. His wife had been through a long struggle, with much pain and toil. Somehow, she made it this far, but she was so tired of the pain everyday. Anyone could see her battle in her eyes and face. Her eyes were once a dazzling blue, but they had faded to a dull powder blue now. Her face was lined with new wrinkles everyday, and her expression always appeared to be contorted by holding back the worry and discomfort. Her husband saw the discomfort most of all, because he remembered how she used to be when she was young and carefree.
"I won't be gone long, and in a while you can come visit me." she vowed, "You still have so much to live for, so much life in you. But I need a vacation from...from all of this." She smiled and gestured to the equipment that surrounded her and was keeping her alive.
"Hey...I love you." He whispered to her for one final time.
"I love you too, see you later alligator." She reached out and stroked his face, feeling the unshaven scruff beneath her manicured fingertips.
He looked away, unable to bear the memory that had suddenly come to his recollection.
They were standing on her porch all those years ago, neither one wanting to say goodbye. The farewell they exchanged on that porch was all too similar to the present moment. It was too painful, too much. He had said goodbye to her on the porch because he knew that he would see her again, but now he wasn’t sure. She was on the porch of death, promising the same way she did sixty years ago, but he didn’t believe her. Why couldn’t he? He had seen her again the next day at church, sitting in the back pews next to the windows. He had thought to himself how beautiful she looked with Sunday sun on her skin and strawberry-blonde hair.
“In a while crocodile.”
The doctors rushed in as soon as they heard the heart monitor’s alarm cease. They told the husband that there wasn’t a heartbeat and that his wife had passed. They apologised for his loss.
“Don’t be sorry, because I’ll see her soon.” He told them.
Before he left the small hospital room, he gazed at his wife for a brief moment, a lifetime flashing before his eyes. He smiled before turning away. He smiled because she still looked beautiful in the Sunday sun.
Hi there Jadefox!
Well this was a lovely piece! It actually touched me and made me think and that's kind of rare to find on this site sometimes so congrats on that!
I think I only had one major issue with it and that was the perspective. You started out with his perspective and then switched to hers, nothing wrong with that but thereafter you kind of became more fluid with how you switched between the perspectives. At the beginning you would do it after a few paragraphs but then later it became after a line or two and it began to get a little confusing. What you have to remember with readers, or maybe just me, is that it takes a little while to get into a character's head space to get acquainted with their thoughts and so if you switch suddenly and then switch back it can knock the reader out of the story. So I think I would advise that, if you want to switch perspectives (and it's sort of nice to have both of them in there), either do it once or have longer moments with each character.
And the only other issue I had with this piece was one of the last lines - The doctors rushed in as soon as they heard the heart monitor’s alarm that there was no more pulse. They told the husband that there wasn’t a heartbeat and that his wife had passed. They apologized for his loss.
It seemed a little clunky compared to the rest of your writing, which flowed quite nicely. The first sentence can be simplified to 'The doctors rushed in as soon as they heard the heart monitor's alarm cease.' and then the next line could be 'They told the husband that his wife had passed and apologised for his loss.'
I don't think you need to things about pulses and hearbeats and what not, not too much of it anyway because it pushes the story to a more clinical place and this piece is based on deep emotions.
Anyway, I really did like this piece and I look forward to reading more of your work. PM me if you have any questions
Bex
x
Great start, you are making a small foreshadow to the ending which encourages the reader to read more. I like how her face is framed by her hair, that is a very nice touch.
"The stars had been as bright as her amber eyes"
oooo excellent imagery! Amber is a color that I almost never see, a wonderful word that is incredibly underused.
"it was her time after all"
Good choice of words. Simple but gets the point across without blatantly telling the reader. Well done.
You use say "loved ones" far too much in the next paragraph. You need to find a substitute for that phrase because each time I read it, it's like another dong in my head of the choppiness of the paragraph.
Wooooow, daaannnggg. This is one of the very few pieces I've ever reviewed that I read through it once and then immediately read through it again because I liked it so much. This is wonderfully knit together and I absolutely adore it. I think you do the song great justice and your writing is so incredibly smooth and easy to read that I almost have nothing bad to say about it. The entire idea behind it is wonderful, standing on the porch of death. Spot on my friend and I commend you. I am curious as to why you bolded the last couple paragraphs of your writing, but regardless I think this a prime example of excellent writing. I rarely award likes to writing, and only once before have I award a like to a short story... but man oh man you really nailed me on this one. I like it very much and I wish you the best of luck in the contest. Keep up the good work my friend.
TuckEr EllsworTh
Thanks! I'll be sure to correct a couple of mistakes, including the bolding. It wasn't supposed to be, but while I was submitting the story it kept getting messed up in ways with tabbing and bolding. Thanks again!