The Mortician's Wife

A dead wife elicits closer with a note and a visit to her husband

            Rubbing his forehead with fragile fingertips, the old man stared at his newspaper with laden eyes. He had authored this page in particular but as tears saturated the thick ink, he felt no pride as an author would.

            "Henry," a young voice said from behind him. The man tilted his head slightly to the side. His thick glasses that had accumulated more lenses over the years gave him a good reflection of who it was, although he would know his step daughter’s voice from anywhere.

            "Henry," she said again, stepping closer, "Mary is here. She's waiting in the living room. She says she wants to talk to you about mom's will."

            Henry turned away so she wouldn't see he'd been crying. Clearing his throat, he replied quietly, "Thank you, Amelia."

            She nodded her head although he could not see, and left the kitchen to accompany her aunt for a few moments.

            He sucked in a deep breath and wheezed. After folding it up neatly, he slowly placed the newspaper back in its home in the cabinet next to the kitchen table. He took a moment to look out the window, trying to compose himself. Henry knew Mary wouldn't think of his vulnerability as a bad thing but he had never let anyone see him cry-or make him cry- except for one...

            The bright sun in the cloudless sky filtered through the window and dried his damp face rather quickly for a spring day. He waited for a moment, staring out into his backyard wondering how he was going to make it.

Henry got up with help from his cane and then made his way to the living room where Mary was. Her overpowering scent of lavender hit his nose first and burned its way up to his brain where it began to cause a dull throb; the beginnings of a headache.

Upon entering the room, Amelia found this an opportune moment to slip away and finish packing her mother’s things.

            "Hello, dear," Mary said with a warm smile. Henry huffed and puffed until he got to his favorite, red chair and sat down. Mary turned to face him on the couch, fondling a black portfolio that rested on her knees.

            "I hope you don't mind; I'd like to make this quick. I have not been feeling well." Henry looked down in his lap, finding it hard not to break down once again. His struggle with tears was a common thing most days. Even just sitting in a room, preoccupied with something, he'd find himself sobbing with the unconscious thought of her in his mind.

            Mary looked at him with sympathetic eyes and nodded, "I understand."

            Henry nodded.

            "Let's get to it."

            The one thing Henry enjoyed most about the spunky older sister of his love was that she knew exactly what to say or what not to say. Everyone felt for Henry and asked him how he was except Mary. She didn't have to ask because she knew. Henry appreciated it.

            "I won't give you the technical B.S. that I was given. I'll just say what she said," Mary pulled out the will copy from the portfolio and a note.

            "What’s the note?" the old man asked.

            "It’s from her. To you. Well, to us. I'll read it," Mary cleared her throat and put on some slick looking glasses.

            "Mary and Henry,-“ Henry interrupted her by placing his hand on her arm.

            “I’d like to read it myself,” he said in a soft voice. She understood and nodded her head, handing him the clean sheet.

            “Mary and Henry,

                        Hello up there! Too soon?

                        Don't feel too bad, I may be 6 feet under but I'm also above having a martini with James Dean (Sorry Henry) So don't do anything drastic because I’m always watching!

                        So let’s get to it,” Henry could see how similar she and her sister were, “Mary, ever since I knew I had my tumor I knew I would give you all of mom’s possessions. It’s only right since you’re the oldest sister after all. When she died, you should’ve had had the china set, even if you were travelling the world and Henry and I were settling into our first home.

                        Henry, I leave you the house and my dresser. Everything else is yours to do what you want with.

                        Tell everyone I say hi! (What a spook!) I love you both!”

            She signed her name but Henry couldn’t read it through his bleary eyes. He promised himself he wouldn’t get this way again, but just knowing that this ink came from a pen that rested in her hand…

            He couldn’t believe it though. It did anger him a bit that while being so in love with this woman, all he got from her was a vague, distant ‘I love you’ from the grave.

            Oh, how he wished he could see her face, though. The stark-white hair and the still smooth skin. Her expressive brown eyes like an innocent doe. However, she was neither innocent nor naïve. Such a smart and mischievous woman she was. It seemed like her goal in life was to pull pranks and crack jokes and surprise Henry like she did. It didn’t matter, though, because he loved every second of it.

            He knew he shouldn’t be upset, but he just wanted her so bad; to hear her thoughts and to have her keep him up all night long, speaking about a thought of revelation. Instead he stayed up all night in loneliness. The memory of her sweet chattering lulling him to sleep reminded him of how lively she was.

            It was ironic really, he thought as he looked at Mary reading the letter, she was dead….and yet so alive.

            “Is that all?” He croaked. Mary could see he was expecting more and with a sad frown she replied, “yes, that’s all.”

            Henry sat there and looked down at his hands, twisting them silently. After a few moments he looked up and said, “You are welcome to get her things.” Mary shook her head and knew this wasn’t a good time.

            “It’s okay, Henry. I can get them another day. We have time.”

            Time. He scoffed. Too much time. A man in his 70s like Henry had so much more left in his life, only he had an empty life without her.

            “Just as well,” he sniffed. Amelia came back downstairs with a blanket in her hands. The blanket she made for her mother when she lay dying in the hospital. The snowflake pattern twinkled in the window light.

            “I’ll see you soon, Henry,” Mary said getting up, “it will get better, I promise. It’s only been a week.” Amelia followed her out.

            This was the one time Mary was wrong. It would not get better.

            Henry felt something then. An itch in the back of his mind that pulled his eyes to his right. He looked over at the stairs and was graced with a presence. His eyes took a moment to focus on his beautiful wife peaking around the wall, with a wink, crooking her finger at him to follow her upstairs. His imagination got the best of him and slowly he got up and followed. As he got to the base of the stairs he looked up to watch the glowing figure twirl in her floral dress. She rounded the corner and he worked his way up the stairs. She stood by their bedroom door, winking at him and then disappearing into the room. His heart was drawn to her now, and he pushed open the door to watch her lean down into her beloved dresser, wiggling her bottom a bit, and pulling out one of her many joys in life; toe socks.

            Henry found himself smiling and chuckling a bit for the first time in months as she danced around the room, making a show of putting them on. A brilliant, satisfied smile lit her face when she had finished getting them on. His wife leaned down again to her dresser again and this time pulled out a single rose, meaning together forever.

            A peace fell over Henry as his wife twirled up to him with the rose in two fingertips, smelling its sweet fragrance. She closed her eyes with a deep inhale, then opened them and they twinkled with a loving gleam.

            Carefully, she tucked the bloomed vibrant rose behind his ear, and placed her hands on either side of his face with a gossamers touch then leaned in to accompany with a gossamers kiss. His eyes closed dreamily wishing this moment to go on forever. At last. At last she was here again. He reopened his eyes with his fingers suspended in the air where her hair should be. His lips tingled where her lips should’ve been.

            With a heavy sigh, he shuffled over and sat on his bed, no hope left in his body. He remembered their life together as he so often did, and he couldn’t understand why she had to be taken from him.

            Henry glanced around the dull room and stopped at her dresser. The sock drawer was open a tad, as if her apparition had forgotten to shut it completely.

            Why did she give him her dresser, anyway? It wasn’t antique or expensive. He leaned over to shut but his fingers caught the lip and stopped. Lingering for a moment, he decided to pull it open more to gaze at all the socks she had left. He picked up a few, staring at the cute designs sewn in. What a strange thing to enjoy so much. But that was her and that was what made me so enticing.

            When Henry reached the bottom he found it. Her favorite pair. It was the pair he had gotten her on Valentine’s Day when they had gotten married. The little teddy bears holding hearts saying ‘love’ smiled at him, while the socks themselves bulged with something invasive.

            Curious, he pulled out a piece of paper.

            Henry, he read on.

            Hurrah! You found this letter! And that is why we were meant to be. I know you too well to think you would be satisfied with that silly letter I gave to Mary. Believe me when I say I have much more to say to you than that. There is so much I wish I could’ve accomplished but those wishes don’t mean anything compared to my biggest wish. And that was to have you.

            I might have passed on but God gave me what I truly wanted, and that is why when he took me away from the world, I was okay with it. He has greater plans for me up here, I just know it.

            Don’t be sad, Henry, because if there’s anything I know better, it’s that we will see each other again. It may seem like eternity without me, but remember patience will bring us eternity together. It may not be easy, but don’t live your last days begrudgingly. Spend time with Amelia. She needs you. You’re the best father a girl could ask for.

            Keep your spirit. Live well,

                       Your wife

 

Henry smiled as the last tear he would shed for his dead wife slid down his chin. His breath came out haggard and ice cold as he felt one last gossamers kiss on his cheek.

Author's Note

This was based off of a song. Had nothing to do with the song, actually. It's just something that came to mind one of the times I heard it.

The Mortician's Daughter- Black Veil Brides