She was alone. Finally. Her last two companions, her daughter
Vivian and son-in-law Edward, just drove away with their six-year-old son
bundled up in the backseat of the car. The little guy had fallen asleep earlier
in the evening, and without waking him, his mother wrapped him in a blanket and
his father lovingly lifted him from the bed and carried him to the car.
Before she followed them out of the room, Leta put her hand on
the warm spot where her grandson recently lay, but only for a moment. She
wanted to walk her family to the door, and besides, the memories once again
overwhelmed her.
It was June 23, 1946, and her husband Robert Fields, had been
laid to rest that afternoon. The ceremony was brief, and the attendance was light.
After all, he had no family of his own, and Leta’s was quite small – two children,
their respective spouses, three of her siblings and their spouses, and a few
friends. After the burial, they gathered at the house, ate, and reminisced.
Most of them stayed for a long while, for her sake—so she would not be so
alone.
After their friends, her son Dale and his wife Kate left
earliest. They had two small children staying with Kate’s sister and wanted to
get home to them. Then, one-by-one, Leta’s siblings headed to their respective
homes, until finally, she just had Vivian, Edward, and Donald. The boy had been
very good the entire day. As it was a pleasant June afternoon, his father took
him outside for a good romp around the yard. Don liked to perform somersaults,
and despite wearing his best clothes, his father let him roll around the yard.
He did them over and over again.
“He’ll get filthy,” Leta told her daughter from the kitchen
window, where they watched a few repetitions.
“I know,” Vivian said, standing as close to her mother as she
could without touching. The family was not physical people in that way.
“They should just play catch with the ball you brought,” Leta
suggested. “Why don’t you tell them.”
“They’ll be fine, Ma,” Vivian said, finally putting a hand
gently on her mother’s shoulder. “I can wash everything.”
“He looked so handsome in his suit,” Leta said, her voice
quivering.
“Bob was a handsome man,” Vivian agreed.
“I meant Don,” Leta corrected.
She had not intended to think so much about her recently
deceased husband. She was already feeling numb from his sudden death. Only four
days earlier, in the wee hours of the morning, he had risen from their bed. She
hadn’t even noticed until she heard the thud from the bathroom. It wasn’t a loud
noise, but she woke.
“Bob?” she called quietly.
She felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the
house. When he didn’t respond, she called his name again, this time louder.
There was still no answer. She rose and walked cautiously out the bedroom door.
The bathroom light was on; the light leaking from underneath the door. She
could hear nor see any movement.
“Bob?” she inquired again, as she took the last few steps to
the door. There was still no answer. She tapped the door lightly and called his
name again. The door was not completely closed and she pushed against it
gently. It opened only a few inches and then was blocked, but it was enough
room for her to poke her head in. The universe shrank to a small circle of
light. Within that circle, she saw her husband lying on the bathroom floor,
pressed up against the sink and toilet with his face on the right cheek and
eyes open, staring blankly at the wall beside the door.
“Bob?” she said one last time.
To be continued.
Xxx
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