2003-08-04 - 3:16 p.m. Love 2 The Bench
Roger was 83 when Marie past away. She was 82. He wondered why he was so unlucky to not die first. He though, �those scientists always used say that the men die first, and the women second.� He had a unique method of grieving. Everything takes longer when you are older. Getting up, showering, getting to the car, cooking, and most of all grieving. After 49 years of Marriage, Roger had a long way to go before he was about to lose the memory of Marie. Nothing about the house changed after she left. After almost a year, he hadn�t moved one thing since the day she died. His two daughters would come over and dust and talk to him, but things just weren�t the same. He retired from his job in sales at 68; due to a bad economy he couldn�t hit his goal of 65. He and Marie spent their days together making plans for trips, and journeys they would take together. �We should go to the south of France,� Marie would say, and then they would go to Barnes and Nobles and pick up the travel guide. They would spend all day reading it out loud together about the little shops and the vistas and the beaches. Marie would say things like, oh that sounds so exotic while Roger would look and say things like I think we would be like young lovers in the springtime if we went there. They would laugh, and then Marie would cook a small dinner since neither of them were accustom to eating much anymore. Over dinner they would talk about eating ricotta in Venice or mutton in Prague. They never went on any of the trips. They were much too old, and would never have had the money to afford them. But it wasn�t the trip that made them smile and laugh, but rather being together. They just kept buying books and dog earring their favorite parts, and making a small library of worldly travel in their living room. At night, after their dinner, they would take the bread that was left over and walk down to the pond about a half mile away from their house. They would sit on a bench, and hold hands as the Canadian geese, brown ducks and an occasional swan would great them. They sat beneath a thick light green willow tree that let off a great deal of pollen in the spring. Sometimes in the foggy weather the willow would look like a sea monster, and Marie would pretend to be afraid so that Roger could comfort her. Rain or shine they were there on that bench, and the ducks and geese anticipated their arrival and would honk as their human friend approached down the footpath. They wouldn�t linger either once the feeding was over, as they typically would waddle back to the pond. They new that Marie and Roger had to be back in bed by nine thirty. Roger used to joke that only state workers slept more than the two of them. But they loved to sleep. One morning Roger woke up, and went to the bathroom to shave and shower like he had done fro nearly 60 years. However, Marie did not get up from their sleep that night. Roger said at the eulogy, all while holding the tears back with sheer pride, Marie and I were always close, but I did find it peculiar that on that morning it was strange that she was so close and so quiet. She had snuggled into my arms in the middle of the night and I just held her close. I don�t know if she did this because she wanted to be so close with me at the end, or if she knew that I would want to be with her. Eulogies are always so hard. Roger kept going to the bench in the park. His daughters were surprised by this since he almost had completely stopped eating, and now slept in the guest bedroom. When they asked him why, almost a year after the funeral, he paused and told them. I always loved our walks, and I knew that if I were going to find her anywhere, it would be there. I know that she will be traveling all over the place now that she can, but I figured that she would come back to that spot sometime. And one time, about a month after she left me, this new swan was there to be fed, and I swear it had her eyes. And after I was done feeding, when all the other ducks left, it stayed and looked at me. I haven�t seen it since, and I keep going back, hoping that it will return. When she does fly back, I will know it will be time for me to leave with her. And his daughters cried and held him, but he just smiled. He was happy. | |||||||||||
