Left in Time

An old man reflects back on his life, focusing on his time with his wife

 

            Jack stirred the fire with a poker, moving the logs around so the unburnt timber might be consumed by the flames. The fire roared up a little, but it would burn only a little longer without his fetching more wood. Exhaustion and frailty hindered action though; he lacked the energy to get up from his chair. He leaned back with a groan and glanced at the relentlessly falling snow outside. Funny how something so small and delicate impacted peoples’ lives in such drastic fashion, especially here in the mountains. Whenever it snowed hard, people were confined to their homes, not that many were inclined to get out and do much this time of year anyway. During the winter months the town was confined to mostly older couples. Younger families stayed in the city. They came like birds migrating in with the spring, and then flew off with the fall. No, there were few left who, like Jack, stayed here year round, but Jack was too old to travel much anymore. Besides he enjoyed life here; the peace and simple beauty, though loneliness sometimes deflated him since Amber’s death a couple of years ago. Sure his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren came to visit from time to time, but in the winter he was mostly left to his own, except for Christmas of course. Someone always visited at Christmas. 

During the days he walked around Lakeland. The cold, crisp, clean air energized him as nothing else could at his age, and the snow left the town looking clean and new even though it was much older than he himself.

Amber had always liked wandering the streets of the town. They had bought a house about five minutes outside of town after retirement, needing a place to slow down a little bit from life’s incessant scrambling, and everyday they walked down the two-lane road which became Main Ave. as it crept into the town. First you saw a few houses on either side of the road followed by a few gas stations, one that had existed for years and a couple of more that opened after the town became some what of a tourist attraction during summer months, and then as it crested a large hill it swept down into the few shops and businesses that Lakeland had. The shops adorned the right side of the road, stacked one against the other as if leaning on each other for support. Crossing the street from the shops brought you to the park where any festivities the town held during holidays took place. Amber loved walking the sidewalk and window shopping. She could have afforded anything these stores offered, but her thrill came simply from looking at the different items, rather than actually owning any of them. Jack guessed it was simply part of a routine she enjoyed. Every once in a while she bought a small gift for her children and grandchildren, but she mostly bought those while shopping with Ella and Rose. 

After window shopping, they stopped in at the ice cream parlor each day to get a milkshake or some other treat. The parlor, an old fashioned place probably setup in the twenties, was maintained by the town for its nostalgic feel. After finishing their ice cream they wandered next door to the library. It carried a modest selection of books, most libraries in a big city had more books in the children’s section, but this one carried the ones they remembered from their youth when they were young and everything about the world excited them. How many times had he come upon a book in the library that he had always intended to read, but never found the time in his youth? In his older days though, he took pleasure in reading these books. They reminded him of the excitement of younger days; days when the world held so many wonders, all of which they longed to see; each new day holding so much promise. 

After searching for long forgotten treasures among the library shelves, they resumed their steady march down the street past the rest of the shops to where the core of the towns’ residents lived. The houses were not overly extravagant. They held the simple comforts their owners required, except for the lawns. The lawns were much larger due to the abundance of space.  There was no need to crowd together like the ever-expanding cities to make room for an ever increasing population. 

They greeted friends as they strolled on, sometimes stopping in for a chat and maybe some tea. Mrs. Williams invited them to come in and fill her in on the latest news from their grandchildren, or Henry asked how the trout were biting lately. As the morning drifted towards afternoon, they headed back home.  Amber would fix a small lunch which they ate outside when it was warm enough, or in the living room by the fire when cooler weather set in or it rained. During the summer Jack drove to the lake outside of town to fish; a tradition passed down to him from his father, and which he had gladly passed on to his own children. What better way to relax and collect ones thoughts? From time to time Amber joined him, watching chipmunks at play or simply enjoying the beauty of nature, but mostly she preferred spending the afternoons tending her garden or cleaning the house. She had always been obsessed with cleaning; everything in her house must always be clean and spotless. That trait had been passed on to Nick, and was the source of numerous fights between her and Rachel over the years. 

Around five-thirty or six in the evening, Jack returned home and the two of them sat down to dinner before spending the evening reading. Occasionally they watched a movie, but television interested them very little. The popular shows looked like so much nonsense to them, especially the reality shows, which seemed to exist simply as an opportunity for people to make fools of themselves. What was entertaining about that?

Now that Amber was gone though, Jack rarely bothered to even read during the evenings. He spent most of his time thinking about Amber, remembering the fifty years worth of memories they shared before she passed away, and as far as he was concerned, life ended the day she died.  He barely remembered life before he married her. Their first few years of marriage were a whirlwind of action. They traveled the world, yearning for each new adventure that presented itself. 

After a couple of years, Rachel was born and they settled down to careers and raising a family.  Shortly thereafter, his parents bought this house as a summer home, and visiting Lakeland became the family tradition; one they enjoyed dearly.    They visited every holiday until his parents died. Then when they reached retirement, Amber wanted to move out here permanently. They spent the next twenty years living quietly. It seemed like an entirely different life. When they were young the whole world provided too little space for their wandering spirits. They longed to see all the world had to offer. Once old age crept in though, the town seemed to possess all they needed, except for their children of course, but they came to visit as they had always done.

But then Amber had been taken from him. He remembered that night too clearly. Of all of the memories left of her, why must he remember this one so clearly? 

Snow fell heavily that night, covering the town and few strayed out into the cold. Amber had searched through the fridge and realized she had used the last of the eggs and forgotten to buy more. She insisted on driving into town to buy some for breakfast in the morning. Jack told her the eggs could wait until morning, and besides, all of the stores would be closing soon. But taking care of him was a habit, and she refused to let him deter her. 

She was almost to Main Ave. when the right tire skidded over some ice she along the right side of the road, spinning the car out of control before slamming into a tree. Jack received the phone call from the doctor an hour later and he grabbed his keys and ran to the car. Arriving at the hospital, he rushed inside where the doctor informed him she barely hanging on, waiting only for him so that she might say goodbye. 

As he approached, tears filled his eyes. How could he possibly let her go? He slowly reached down for her hand and smiled at her. He sat down on the bed, brushed her hair gently, and kissed her forehead. As he sat back up he heard her whisper “I love you” faintly before the light slowly faded from her eyes; she simply drifted to sleep. No more goodbye than that.  A brief embrace and then she was gone. He thought he must surely die sitting there next to her.

After that Jack cursed God. He knew their time grew short, but he had not been prepared for her to go yet. He stopped praying, attending church, or conversing with anyone. He refused to visit the town because everything in it reminded him of her; every memory he had of it existed with her. Her loss caused him more pain than he ever imagined possible. His children visited and he cursed them too; scolding them for failing to care for their parents. They were too old to care for themselves. 

His heart grew embittered, and his body steadily declined in health. He refused to go to town even to buy groceries and his food supply rapidly dwindled. He refused to cook, most of the time choosing to ignore his hunger all together. His children hired a caretaker to look after him, but he wanted nothing to do with her. Amber had taken care of him his whole life, and no one could take her place, he informed them indignantly.

A few months after her death, Jack sat in his chair staring at the television when Amber appeared on the couch to his left. For a few minutes he forgot her death and he remarked about heading to town in the morning; their neighbors expected them for a visit.

“Jack,” she began morosely. “Why do you bring so much suffering upon yourself? You’ve been a wonderful husband and a good father, and now you transform into a bitter old man chasing away everyone who loves you.”

 Jack got up and moved over next to her on the couch. He reached for her and stopped, wondering if she was real, and then not knowing if he wanted to know. Tears filled in his eyes as he stared lovingly upon his life-long love.

“Why did you leave me?” he asked in a voice weak with sorrow. “I need you here. I can’t take care of myself.”

“There are many people who still love you and seek to help you, yet you refuse their pains,” she replied. “You curse their efforts and shun them.”

“I don’t want them. I want you,” Jack begged tearfully. “Life is empty without you. I need only you.” The pain in his eyes broke her heart. She understood his reticence to continue on, but at the same time knew he must.

“Look here old man,” she growled. “It’s not your time. The world needs you a while yet. Quit sniveling and whining. When we first married we promised each other to always live our lives to the fullest. Well you have time left, and I expect you to keep your promise to me.” Then her tone softened. “I’ll see you again when its time. The end of this life is not the end of our time together.” 

At that she slowly faded away. As she faded, tears streamed down his face. He tried to plead with her to stay, but the words stuck in his throat. He sat sobbing for hours. He had never really grieved her loss; had been too bitter, but the grief poured out now. It gushed out of him like a river freed from its dam; flowing forth until it had completely drained out of him.

The next morning he awoke refreshed, intending to immediately begin keeping his promise to her; it was her last wish of sorts. Jack resumed the daily journey through the town as they had done so many times before. He greeted everyone he knew, and even introduced himself to new ones. It took him most of the day to make the journey, but he made it happily. Everyone invited him inside their homes for tea and a bite to eat, or simply to catch up, relieved to see him once more in such fine spirit. He accepted a few of their invitations, and those he declined he promised to accept in the days ahead. 

His health improved slowly, but he was still an old man. He found it harder and harder to make the journey through the town, but strove to nonetheless, fearing if he did not that he failed to keep his promise to her. He gave in to his children’s demands for a caretaker look after his needs. She took care of him throughout the day, but he insisted on his solitude at night. He wanted time alone with his thoughts and memories. 

Now his thoughts were all he had left; the lifetime of memories she left with him. He had a momentary lapse in which he cursed God again for his loss, but quickly repented his ill words. He missed her sorely, but knew how much he received throughout their years together; more than any man had a right to ask for.  If she were there now, she would have told him to be grateful for all they were given. He smiled to himself as his thoughts of her swept through him and closed his eyes. 

Outside the snow continued its delicate descent. In the hearth the fire waned, burying the house in darkness. The house slowly grew cold and stiff. Everything was quiet.