"Leave us alone" Venita said shakily "let the dead bury the dead" she mummured inaudibly as she slowly walked into the room. As if hoodwinked with a powerful spell, the mourners fanned out quickly, heads down and shoulders dropped. The room was semi dark with one half of the window drapes letting in just a peek of the morning glow of the sun.
It was a modest abode for a man of such knowledge base and wisdom. She looked up at the drapes filled with holes that made it look like a polka dot design, but which in reality was the evidence of the passage of time and it's effect on the poor fabric. It was tied loosely on both ends with a rubber robe to steel nails drilled into the wall.
At the far end of the room, opposite the entrance, just a few feet from the window was a plastic table and chair, stacked with books of different genres. Over at the other end of the room, opposite the table and chair was the squeaky old and rusty bunk of a bed, underneath it was the defunct kitchen where pots and plates were tucked in, away from the view of visitors who dared to enter the room.
Venita stood motionless, watching the lifeless body laid on the bed, with its eyes closed and it's body stiff and she wondered how he managed to make himself relatively comfortable in a space like this, always looking contented on the outside. But deep within, she knew he had a void that gnawed at him daily which no one could fill. A void even she did not understand.
This he usually let out at her in a protective manner. To those on the outside, it was love, but to her, it was punishment. She usually felt like the stray dog forcefully carried to the hunting grounds in a rusty wheelbarrow. The iron fist scraping through her body and mind, just as he plucked her out of the streets and saved from imminent death.
To her it was ironic that his biggest companions were a rusty wheelbarrow and a dog. He usually found solace in his daily routines, tending to his garden with the steadfast companionship of his trusty old wheelbarrow. But it wasn't just the wheelbarrow that kept him company.
At this thought, Venita's name wandered the room in search of his adopted father's other companion. And there he was, by his side, as always, an old hound named Max, his loyal eyes reflecting the wisdom of years spent wandering the countryside. Together, they formed an unconventional family unit, bound by a love that transcended words.
And that love had radiated through that small unit of family even though the whole community knew him as a man with a big and green heart that reflected his garden in its beauty, but was larger than his modest cottage could contain.
Venita motioned to the poor dog who leaped at her as a baby would jump at its mother after a long journey away from it.
"don't worry Max, it's all going to be alright" she whispered at the dog, rubbing at its fur
Then she walked to the bedside and kneeling beside it caressed the cold stiff, and wrinkled hands which she knew had seen it's fair share of turmoil in life. Then slowly, she kissed it intimately and wept uncontrollably as if the veil of strength was ripped from her soul in a moment of realization.
"if only you had allowed me in to try and help you" she murmured under her breath. "but I'm happy that now you can have the rest you deserve, away from the filth of this world" then she hesitated
"though I'm scared of how to navigate this place without your iron fist beating me into shape"
Then lifting her face to his, she marveled at the sight of this man who was so flawed, but also deeply intertwined with the earth beneath his feet. Then standing up erect, she wiped her tears and turned with the grace of a ballerina, walked out the room, motioning to the undertakers to go do their job.
As she stepped out, with Max following at her heels, she knew that she had buried her dead, she had to get over her adopted father and focus on the life in front of her. It won't be easy, but she has to persevere. She'll keep his memories afresh, but his flaws buried along with him.
In the quiet moments that followed her exit from the house, and as the sun continued to shimmer above the horizon, Venita found solace in the knowledge that his adopted father's love was not bound by the constraints of his flaws and she could always reach out to him in her deep subconscious.
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This was sweet and heartfelt all at once. I also believe that he is resting in peace. That final conviction only shows that with Max by her side, things are going to work out great. Great writing.
Yeah, he most definitely is having a peaceful rest.. Thank you
You have an admirable description of words. Loss is usually tragic and Venita and Max (the dog) the loyal dog would hopefully be a good companion to fill the void of the loss of her adopted dad. Good script here
I hope they can navigate the thoroughfares of life successfully too.. Thank you for stopping by
That was very interesting
I was already feeling for the Venita