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It was an unusually gloomy
day. The rain misted, collecting on the leaves and eventually falling
to the ground like tiny teardrops. It was windy and just cold enough
to make you catch your breath. The fog lingered a little longer than
usual considering it was close to midday. It was a perfect setting
for the way Brently felt. His good friend Richards was coming to
pick him up soon to began his new journey in life. He knew this day
would come, but hoped that he would have been the one chosen first.
As the wind began to blow his bones ached more than usual. Standing
out on the porch in weather such as this wasn’t as bad with a cup of coffee
in his hand, but he never had the opportunity to learn exactly how the
coffee machine worked. With that he turned slowly and headed upstairs
to get dressed. Thank goodness he had a suit already pressed and
ready for Sunday morning services, only he would be using this suit a day
in advance. He looked through his dresser to find that his gray tie
was missing and without thinking, he called out her name. There was
no answer, only dead silence.
He stood in the doorway of the tiny church,
his feet unable to propel him farther. Just then, Richards touched
his back as if it was a shove to get his feet going again. The room
was softly lit by candlelight and filled with flowers of many styles from
family and few friends. The casket was steel blue in color and adorned
with the deepest red roses and lined in shiny white satin. Her hands lay
crossed just below her bosom over the top of a picture of Brently.
Even though it was cold outside, she was dressed in her favorite Spring
dress from three Easters ago. She always looked like she was in another
world when she put that dress on, and because she was gone, Brently wanted
to try to put some sort of life back in to her – even if it was make believe.
He turned around and made his way to sit down before his knees gave out.
The sight of her this way troubled him so. There were so many things
that were going to be different now, and he didn’t know if he was going
to be able to stand it.
There were many people crowded in the tiny chapel
there to see his beloved wife. They were in little huddled groups
spaced in different areas of the room. Alarming was the fact that
there wasn’t anyone there that he did not know. It was troubling,
and the more he pondered this thought, a little stream of light began to
seep through the darkness of his mind. Could this be the only thing
that was a representation of her life? As quickly as the illumination
came, quicker did it fade away. It was still too early for the realization
of what she was to come to light. It was too soon yet for him to
see that she indeed had more to offer him than just the works of her hands
that made his life so comforting.
It was getting late, and the services were nearly
over. Many people had come and gone, leaving their hopes for Brently’s
piece of mind. Brently made his way over to the casket once more
before he left with Richards. Her leaving him was unbearable at times,
and he blamed himself at her passing. But, he blamed himself for
the wrong reasons: reasons of which he had no understanding. If only
he would have called her from the airport to tell her that he had missed
the train, he thought. Maybe things would have turned out differently.
Her heart was so weak.
Brently took his suit off and hung it in the closet,
careful to keep the pleats together as best as possible for he could not
remember the last time, or anytime, he used an iron. He gathered
his bath things, eager for the water to release some of the tension he
felt. However, no matter where he looked, he always saw her in everything.
He saw her in the arrangement of his clothes, in the fresh smelling towels,
and in the décor of the house. She took care of things so
unselfishly, and how he wished now he could have told her what a blessing
she was in his life. She kept the order in his life and gave him
a safe haven to return to after a hard day at work. She never wanted
for anything, then again, he never asked her.
Sleep would not come for him. He went downstairs to the living room and started a fire. He just sat in his chair and thought their whole life through. He thought about the services and the array of people that came and he began to see that his wife put all aside for him. There was a nagging question that came to grip his heart, and it was the question he had never wondered about her before now. Who was Louise? His legs still had some weakness, and he thought that it would be best to prop them for a while. He reached to pull the coffee table closer to him and instead pulled on the knob of the drawer. The drawer and its content came crashing to the floor. What tumbled out was a small book. The book looked like a homemade diary. The outside cover was cloth and it was the most beautiful book he had ever seen. It was a little worn, but in good condition. The cloth was deep blue, and the edges were surrounded with delicate lace as white as a dove. On the front was a red heart embedded in the blue material. Across the heart were letters that looked like they were stitched effortlessly, soft and flowing. They read, "Louise".
As he held the book in his hands, his heart was beating ever so fast. He knew that this was a book that was precious to her. Terrified to know the truth, but longing to know the answers, he opened its protective covers. The first page read:
Desperate and lonely is my crying
My heart longs to be noticed
And as days go by it is slowly dying
My heart lives here in this book
It is my desire, my passion
Bravely its content day to day I look
It keeps me grounded and pulls me through
My heart feeds on the memories
And my strength is renewed
The next page was a picture of when she and Brently were dating. They were in a field of wildflowers that were bent just slightly from the gentle breeze of the wind. She was perched on top of his back with her cheek against his, fitfully laughing and high on life. Below the picture scribbled in pen were the words: Love was free here – without price or condition. She loved Brently and he loved her. However, over the years the relationship became used and tiresome. The chase was over and that fact was terribly hard to face, especially for Louise.
He read page after page. It was a story of her life as wife in contrast to what she longed to have once again, the freedom and joy of discovery of her younger days. Hopes and aspirations, instead of disappointments and the tiresome toil that everyday life brings.
He reached the last page to discover Louise’s destiny.
Between the last page and the back cover was a single pressed rose.
A strip of lace from her wedding dress was tied in a bow around the dead
rose. Now, after reading the book, he realized that maybe things
would have been different if he would have found it sooner. It was
her cry for help. It was a cry that she could not escape on her own
with out shame, for she lived her life in a way that was respectable for
a wife.
The sun peeked through the window. Little
sleep did Brently get upon finding Louise’s treasure. Richards was
knocking at the door to take him to the funeral. He tucked Louise’s
book under his coat and opened the door. As their eyes met, before
Richards could say a word, he could see that the man he dropped off yesterday
was not the man standing before him now. His eyes were wide and knowing.
His back was bent more than usual and his words of hello sounded burdened
and heart broken. Richards inquired of Brently’s new condition, but
Richards got no answer, just a slap on the shoulder and a shake of his
head as he carried himself to the car.
Once again he found himself unable to get past the doorway of the chapel. After a sigh, he made his way to his chair, unable to look upon Louise. As he sat there, coldness overtook him and then left suddenly. Then, all at once, he smelled the warmth and comfort of her perfume. He felt her presence in the room, and he was sure that she had just moved through him. He knew it was her, and it compelled him to get up from his chair and move toward her side. As he looked upon his wife, he felt the brush of her hand across his cheek. He never looked back to see if it was someone behind him, for he knew the gentle touch of his wife. It was the touch he had felt all the years they were together. Now, after her death, she was still attending to his needs. He realized that, and the words of her book overwhelmed his thoughts. The tears began to flow from his eyes. It was like no pain he had ever felt. It was the pain of hopelessness and death to a spirit. He imagined that pain this deep was exactly the pain she must have felt. He wished that death would find him and carry him to her. Just then, the warmth of her touch left his skin and he felt a breath across his ear whisper
– “Do not worry for me. I love you, and I am free.”
Even though she was gone forever from his life, he
took comfort in the words that she spoke to his heart. Realizing
he had nothing to offer her now but his undying love and devotion, he gave
her the one thing he failed at during their life together. He bent
down and kissed her tenderly. He took the picture of himself that
was cradled beneath her bosom and replaced it with the book that gave him
a peek into her dying heart. Then he whispered, as the tears still
flowed from his eyes, “I love you, always. Now you are free.”
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