Not My Story

Sometimes, I just get sick of talking about myself and what I do… I live with me enough already :)  Also, lately I have been barraged with stories of friends, family, and others who have died, often unexpectedly.  But I don’t feel like talking about death.  I don’t feel like discussing a world without certain people in it.  I don’t want to go there.  So today, I’m avoiding all that.  Today, I’m going to tell a story.

Stories have the wonderful ability to bring people together, to share in our joys, our misfortunes, our loves, and our despairs.  Stories reveal truths not only about us but about the world around us.  Mysteries are revealed, created, strengthened.  Characters are designed, developed, and loved.  Humor infects us.  Joy grabs us.  Pain makes us gasp.  Sorrow makes us cry.  A story tells it all, shares it all, believes it all.  With stories, anything is possible.

So, here is a small story I have written.  I won’t divulge my inspiration, for I myself am unaware of it.  Please, dive into the words; let the images sink into your minds, the emotions seep into your hearts.  And remember, stories are for sharing.

…..

The wind brushes against my face as I gaze stoically at the beautiful sight before me.  Mountains stand tall with peaks caressing the clouds above them, tips glistening with fresh snow.  A quaint town sits at the base of those stony walls, the sun glistening off the tin roofs and making the rainbow of colored facades that much brighter.  Green foothills envelop the small town and make their way to my house here in the distance.  The world today is so beautiful…but it fails to tug at my heart.  My mind is elsewhere, caught up in yesterday.  Why? I cry to myself.  Why to him and why now?  I suddenly look around, aware that I yelled that last part out loud.  Ashamed I look down and my strong stoic face crumbles, tears rush down my cheeks.  I feel so alone.

John, my sweet John, how could God take you from me now?  With two little ones and one on the way, why did He have to take you?  They need you as a father.  I need you. 

Dark thoughts fill my mind, swirling about, its venomous poison seeping into my heart.  I cannot love again, I tell myself.  I will not love again.  To love is to lose.  Worse, to love is to hurt.

My whole body aches, trembling from his absence.  I ache, painfully and physically, for his touch, his arms around me, his warm presence at my side.  I yearn for his smile, his wry chuckle, his hearty laughter.  I long for his stubbornness, his general lack of grooming, his obnoxious intelligence—things I never thought I’d miss. 

Part of me hears his voice in the other room, leading the others in a debate on politics or laughing boisterously at a well-timed joke.  Any second he’s going to come up behind me, hug me, and tell me everything is going to be all right. Any second now… Any second…

Time slows.  Minutes never pass.  Seconds drag on.  The world moves in slow motion, as if the wheels of the world are caught up in thick caramel, though this caramel lacks any of its sugary sweetness…  And still he doesn’t come. His voice never whispers.  His arms never warm mine. His presence is nothing but a wishful phantom.

My body heaves, unable to keep the sobs inside.  Unable to hide my hurt.  Unable to stop.

My youngest hears my sobs and rushes to my side, holding my hand in his, whispering kind words of love.  He leads me inside where my family waits for me.  They embrace me in their beautiful little arms, their warm and wonderfully alive little arms.  And I realize something.  They need me too.

…..

A short story, incomplete, fractured, simple.  Death is none of this.  Death is all of this.  I hope that what I failed to capture here in the words still came through in the story underneath.  The words between the words. Or rather, the emotion and story between the words. 

I hope you took away something to chew on, to ponder, to examine, to wonder (a hope that any storyteller wishes on her audience).  Stay tuned until next time!