Incomplete

A short piece of work written about an elderly man completing his final duty; the piece centers around the ideas of love, fate, duty and purpose.

The stars blazed overhead, the light shimmering through the cold, black depths of space. And he took to the idea that their sole reason for shining was to help illuminate this night, to preside over this moment. Standing in the field where he had first met her all those years ago, he stopped. He withdrew the old necklace from his pocket and prized open the locket with his shaking hands. His grin, her smile. A tear navigated his aged face.

Years had gone by yet the memory of her had not been diminished by the passage of time. Her smile, he could see it; it was as vivid to him as the stars reaching down, comforting him with their warm glow. 

They had met when they were young. They had met when they were naive, full of hope, happiness, life. They met when he couldn't even bring himself to think about responsibilities such as work, children. But they wondered through the labyrinth of life together. Every single event that rocked them, they overcame. He'd neglected her when he started his working life. His law career which he became swept up in had made him bitter, angry at the injustice the world kept churning out in such cruel abundance. But she soothed him. Saved him. When she had doubts, when she worried about his short attention span and his withdrawn nature - this is when he turned things around, tore down the walls he erected and rushed back into her arms just before they could close.

In a word, it was miraculous. The winds of the world, of time and fate intended for them to sail on together. And when he found out she was ill, really ill, a part of him ceased to be bound to the world - maybe the world withdrew from him, morphed somehow. 

After 21 years together, he lost her. He lost himself. 

***

Stood next to that old tree he heard a remarkable silence. He heard the silence that had suddenly rushed into that small, sterile hospital room. The bleach white room where her pale body lay, peaceful. He chose to smile, not cry - his last selfless gesture - for he knew too well the pain that she had battled. She hated the thought of him being lonely and so she had struggled for him. She fought the pain valiantly. This is how she fought everything, with an energy, with a drive that always left him in awe.

A curious crow looked down upon his weak, sunken frame. It studied his movements. His breath became ragged, uneven, as he knelt down, the locket clutched in his hand, as though to part from it prematurely would shatter him.

The dark soil met his hands. Running them over the earth, he remembered what it was like to touch her. "This is where you dwell now", he whispered, with only the crow to hear him. Standing once more he wondered a few feet and picked up his shovel, digging down. Looking at the hole he had dug he felt so deeply the emptiness which resided in him. He was incomplete. But not for much longer. This whole journey, it would soon be over.

With the tenderness you'd expect to see from a father kissing their injured child he planted his lips upon the locket. He let her go now, once again, placing her back into the dirt. But this time she was accompanied by him. And so he sanctified this space. A certain religiosity gripped him and he felt holy.

He would never visit this place again.

***

A few weeks later the old man passed away. He died alone but with so much love in his heart. 

He was dead at the hands of her sickness. During that last breath he thought of his solemn mission under the stars and he thought about life. He thought about how utterly futile it can feel. He thought about how terrible and miserable it was at times. He thought about the people he was unable to help and all his other little failings. He thought about how man spends his time eating and sleeping - surviving... yet he can never escape the inevitable. And lastly, he thought about her and how she had made all of that cease to matter. He had lived. He had suffered. He had met her. And he was truly grateful.