Final Good-byes

This was originally written as an epilogue to a story I never got around to writing. It is a fictional "where are they now" after the true events of one of my relationships I meant to put to paper.

Author's Note: First off, to clear up some confusion. "Ken" is a Gaelic term meaning "to know." Secondly, "Ciamar a tha sibh," is Gaelic for "how are you?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

I must have been sitting in that pub for hours on end. I was staring down at the object of my affection as it slowly dwindled to the bottom of the mug. I had always hated the taste of alcohol as a child. Then again, I suppose things are different now.

In many ways, I'm still just as much of a child now as I was then. After all, I was sitting in that pub, wasn't I? I had no place there. And yet, there I was.

The bartender was staring at me oddly. An American in a Scottish tavern wasn't a common sight. Especially when the American also happened to be female. Ah, well. As long as he gave me what I asked for, I was content.

The golden liquid moved and jumped with the beat of the band in the back corner. Even after all my Gaelic lessons, I still didn't understand a word of it. However, the whole scene brought back memories from those many years ago.

~"I don't love you...I'm sorry..."~ after seven years, the words still stung.

I shook my head. No sense in thinking about it now. Not when everything was permanently changed six months ago. A slow sigh escaped my lips and, despite my best efforts, I brushed a tear from my eyes.

"Ye okay, Lassie?" the tender asked in slightly broken English.

"Me? Aye, Suh...I'm alright..." I replied, unable to keep from feigning a Scottish accent.

"Ye been drinkin' an' sittin' 'ere for two hours..." he reminded me.

"Aye...I ken..." the words struck an odd chord, "I know..." I repeated in English softly.

I was always told the words of a Scot didn't quite suit me. I never cared, of course. Using them once in a while kept that memory alive. Even if it hurt to think about it.

"So...if ye donna mind me askin'...what are ye doin' in 'ere? An American girl in a little town like 'is?" he questioned, seemingly unconcerned with my imitated accent.

"I don't know. To say good-bye, mayhaps..." the anxious butterflies (a common ailment I'd suffered as a child) fluttered, making me tire of ale and bar food.

"Good-bye? An' wha' do ye have to say good-bye to 'ere?" he didn't seem exactly trusting of me.

I was used to that. They never did trust me. I think, in the end, it was the distrust of an overprotective family that ended it all. I don't suppose it really surprised me that it hadn't changed. Nothing ever seemed to anymore.

"A memory that never quite left me alone," my mind was lost elsewhere, barely answering.

"From 'ere? Well, I been livin' 'ere fer twen'y year and I never saw ye," he stared at me.

"Bit more complicated than that, I'm afraid," I told him absently.

"Right..." he gave me an odd look and, to the relief of both of us, left to attend to another patron of the little dive.

I raised my glass, chiming the ice within. The butterflies had subsided and another drink was in order. The sound beckoned the tender begrudgingly and he refilled my glass, glancing at me once more.

"Ye ken...now tha' I look at ye, there is somethin' familiar 'bout ye..." he said.

"If you knew me at all, it would be by name and maybe a single picture alone, Sir..." I told him.

"Oh? And what be ye name, Lassie?" he asked.

"Caitlyn, Sir..." I whispered.

"Caitlyn? Now why does tha' name sound..." he started.

"Micah always talked about her," a voice said from behind me.

I turned back to face a woman. She was young in body, but worn in face. I frowned at her. She offered a sad, knowing smile and drew a little boy into her arms. One look at the boy's eyes and I nearly wept.

"Kaith..." I struggled through a gasp.

"Aye, Lassie..." she said.

"Mithir, who's 'at?" the boy asked.

"She loved your father, Collin...” she told him.

The boy averted his eyes and I frowned again. God, he looked so much like his father. He even carried his grandfather's name. Micah had always talked about naming his first-born son after his own father.

"How is he?" I swallowed.

"You mean...you donna ken?" the tender asked.

"Know what? He told me he didn't love me and disappeared forever. Shortly after, Mac, Roe, and I got into an argument and we lost contact," I told them both.

"I'm sorry, Caitlyn. I thought you'd have ken..." Kaith shook her head.

"Known what?" I remember feeling hot tears in my eyes, even before she revealed anything.

"Lassie, 'ere..." the tender, who had disappeared into a back room, returned.

I turned to face him as he handed me a crumpled envelope. It reeked of liquor and age. I looked at the tender in question. He shook his head and returned to his duties. Kaith rested a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention to her.

"Go down the street to the righ'. Follow it abou' a mile. Turn left and climb the hill. Fin' the third row and turn down the right. Pass eight stones and ye'll find him waitin' for ye..." she said.

"Kaith..." I whispered, my hands trembling.

"Go," she repeated.

I turned as she moved to walk away. Taking my leave after tossing coins to the tender, my hand dug into the paper of the envelope. I barely registered that my name was written on the front.

I opened the folded piece of paper that had been within. My feet dragged down the path Kaith designed. My eyes were instantly attached to that old parchment slip. I whispered the words to myself as I walked.

 

            Dearest Caity-

            Ciamar a tha sibh? A right sight better than me if you're reading this. I can only hope and pray that this will reach someday. I'm not certain why I'm writing this. Or what I hope to accomplish. Everything's gotten so messed up, my love.

Aye...I called you that. I suppose it's best to start over before I lose myself in thought here. I'm so sorry, Caitlyn. I beg your forgiveness for everything that's happened. I'm a fool and, I guess now that it's too late, it's right that I realize it. I lied to you, Lass. I never loved someone else. I never lied about loving you. I love you more than I can express and I'm a cad for breaking your heart the way I did.

If you're reading this, then you probably already ken why. But maybe you don't. I don't ken what you're doing or what you ken. For all I ken, you could be waiting for me at God's gate. I pray that's not true. I pray you found someone who can take care of you the way I never could. You always deserved a lad better than me. I just wish I could have been the lad that met you at the end of the aisle...

            That's not important now. What's important is for you to ken that I love you. Even as I lay here, dying of the same thing that killed Jeremy, I never stopped loving you. And everyday that passes, I regret breaking your heart.

            There now. It's out. The truth is, Lass, I'm dying. The doctors said it'd kill me over time. I ken I should have told you, but it's too late now. I can already see Da and Jeremy. But I couldn't leave without good-bye. Even if it never makes it to you, I had to at least get it on paper.

I can't take back what I did. And it kills me to think of you hurt on my account. In some ways, I pray you never find this letter. But if you do, ken that I love you. I'm watching you from Heaven, Lass. Never forget that.

            I don't have much time left. I wish I could have said this in person. I wish I could have kissed you just once for real. I wish you all the happiness in the world, Lass. And I hope you don't cry if you find out the truth.

            I love you, you bonnie wee Lass you. And I'll sing with the Angels all the songs of your heart. And I'll be here waiting for you when you get where you're going. Good-bye, my greatest love.

            -Micah McNiel

 

The good Lord only knows how far I'd walked while reading that letter. I had to stop every so often to keep control of the shaking sobs that wracked my body. And, of course, to make sure I followed the right path.

~"Find the third row and turn down the right..."~ Kaith had said.

As I climbed the hill, I stopped. Tears still blurred my eyes, but I was able to read the sign on the gate before me. Dalgatty Cemetery. The words only caused my heart to break further.

~"Pass eight stones and you'll find him waiting for you..."~

I didn't understand until that moment. I had supposed, but my heart and soul wouldn't believe it. Stones, said Kaith. Dear Lord...headstones...

My body trembled as I walked that path. One...two...three...I was closer and my body only shook that much worse. Four...five...six...I could see his father's grave...seven...And his brother Jeremy's...eight.

My eyes fell on the stone in disbelief. I don't know what I had been expecting. Perhaps some part of me was holding on to the impossibility that he would be standing in front of me, waiting with open arms. Whatever hope I had was dashed as I read the engraving aloud.

 

                                                 Micah Collin McNiel

                                         1988        -               2006

 

Tears fell more freely as I stared at that gray, grim writing. A nearly autumn breeze brushed against my face, as if in attempt to wipe away the tears. Weakly, I fell to my knees.

"You didn't even make it to the end of that year..." I whispered.

The overcast sky growled at me and my eyes flickered to it. I cursed aloud. Seven years! My mind was screaming. Seven years I'd thought about him. Wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was happy, and, most of all, where I'd gone wrong.

Seven years had gone by and I never knew. I'd been robbed of my chance to say good-bye. Robbed of my chance to help. Robbed of my chance to even see him just once.

My head hurt from the bitter tears as I stared blankly at the grave marker. My fingers traced his name and I choked back another loud sob. I leaned back onto my calves and just wept.

The wind picked up again, kicking leaves around the ground. As the dead leaves in front of my knees shifted, they gave a clue to an epitaph beneath them. Shaking, I brushed the leaves away and hungrily read the last words that would ever be written about my lost beloved.

 

I lived with all my strength and loved with all my heart. My only regret is never telling her that...

 

My fingers brushed over those words with a tenderness few had ever known from me. I stared down at the slate-gray stone. My heart cried for the boy that lay six feet beneath me. Boy he was...for man he had never had the chance to become.

The pain of seven years, of never getting to say good-bye, of losing my first true love, melted into a numbness I couldn't fight. I couldn't place the emotions running through me. Was it regret? Closure? Bitterness? My mind swam with thoughts. Memories of us. Memories of the years that followed after his suspicious farewell.

~"I don't love you...I'm sorry..."~ the words echoed in my head.

What a fool I'd been to let my past anger blind me to the truth. To what was truly wrong. And now, knowing the truth only tore me apart. Fresh tears fell to my thighs, darkening the jeans in some spots.

Another growl from the clouds over my head resounded through the area. This time, as if to mirror my heart, the clouds broke and ripped open. Raindrops colored the stones, turning them a more dreary, almost unsettling blackish color. Those drops mixed with my falling tears, turning hot bitterness into cold sadness and making me shiver.

~"Good-bye, my greatest love..."~

I never thought so few words could hurt so much. I certainly never thought anything could hurt worse than those last words he'd left me to push me away all those years ago. And yet, even as I sat there, my breath easily seen in the nearing autumn chill, the pain was lessening.

I knew he loved me. I knew what we had was real and, even though he was gone and we'd never be as we always wished to, that love would never fade away. I knew I would love him until I died.

My eyes clung to the engagement and wedding bands on my finger. Six months. Six months ago I had given my heart and hand to a love I'd met in college. And it had taken me six months (not to mention all the time we'd spent dating) to get here. To get here...and say my last good-bye.

When my husband and I had first kissed, I knew. I knew I had to say good-bye or else be forever haunted by the pain of his memory. Now, I sat at the grave of my first love, weeping for his loss.

The cold rain tapered off, then. Though the clouds still banished the light, a break opened above me. The sun made my wet eyes squint and I looked up.

The warmth of the sun dried those tears on my face. The headache from crying faded and I let out a slow breath. It was time to go.

I couldn't stay here anymore. I had come to say good-bye and so good-bye I had said. As I slipped to the entrance of the cemetery, I looked back to that row of headstones almost longingly.

I felt the warmth of the sun strengthen against my shoulder. I turned around and I could almost see him smiling at me. The illusion died and I stood there, sighing once more.

"Good-bye, my love...my Prince of Jacobites..." I whispered.

The walk back was soundless. The whole day had been silencing. I thought back to those five months. How wonderful they had been, though short lived as they were. I had loved with him everything that I had.

A part of me still did. A part of me always would. But today...tomorrow...and all the days that followed, I planned to live. I planned to live as I would have done had he been the one waiting for me when I got home.

I know he's watching over me in Heaven. I know I'll see him again. It will be quite some time before then. But it will come. Someday.

Someday I'll wake up to his smile. Someday I'll kiss him for real. Someday I'll walk between the stars with him. And someday...someday I'll sing with him. All the songs of our youth. Someday...

 

                                                                                    THE END

 

Author's Note

I apologize for the confusion about what in the world is happening and who is involved. If you would like to know, leave me a message and I'll be happy to explain the story that was meant to come before this epilogue.