He stood there at the edge of the chasm staring out into the nothingness of space just beyond the precipice. Staring out into the vast opening and thinking of it as a big hole in the ground. Staring out as the sun slowly began to make its decent into the western horizon just behind the rocky works of art that many called the Grand Canyon. He stood there staring out into a beauty he couldn’t begin to describe, and at this point in his life it really seemed unnecessary.
It was breath taking. It was magnificent. It was something he should have done years and years ago and with his family so that they too could marvel at this piece of work the world had taken its time to get right. It was the best thing he could have done on what he considered his last day of his life.
He took a deep breath and stared up at the dark clouds floating overhead. Ominous looking clouds, but clouds that held no rain. Dark and threatening, yet they no longer held any storms within them. Now they were just a part of the world as it was. They floated by just as the old clouds did without a care in the world but no longer could he make out the whimsical, imaginary shapes of dragons and dogs and rabbits and cats that he could just a short time ago in his life.
So much has changed now.
He took another breath and was not surprised by the acidic taste that filled his mouth and burned his lungs. The cough that followed he had more or less gotten used to because the air was slowly destroying his lungs; he would have gotten a doctor’s opinion about that, but as it was there were no doctors for him to consult with. He stared out into the nothingness as a single tear streamed down his cheek as he swallowed deep.
There was no one left but him.
His name is James Meserick, and when they were all alive; he was Jim to all of his friends and family. For the most part he had a simple life. He had had a wife, Lyndsey, and at the time they had no kids but were planning to have at least two in the near future. They had had a nice little house, within a nice little cul-de-sac in the suburbs of St. Louis and a dog that they would walk together around the neighborhood. Both of them had had decent jobs, her as a registered nurse and him in an accounting firm, and made a fair living all of which seemed redundant now.
A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared out over the openness in front of him. He missed them. He missed all of them, but especially her. He missed his wife, their conversations, her laughter, her smile – he had almost forgotten what her smile looked like. He thought hard and a vague image of her face slowly began to appear and just as quickly it all disappeared.
“I can’t remember my wife,” his voice almost startled him it had been so long since he’d heard it.
“Why can’t I remember my wife? I know I had one, her name was Lyndsey,” he scratched his head, “yes it was Lyndsey, and we had been married for …”
He paused.
“And we had been married for,” he said it louder as if expecting an answer. “Wait, wait… we got married on December 7th,” he laughed because she would have been proud he still remember the date, “and this year would have been … no, no, no wait.”
His confusion was now frustrating him. How long would they have been married and what was the year? When did it happen? That’s the question, when did all of this madness begin? He slowly sat down on the edge letting his legs hang over kicking them out as if he were in a swing and trying to propel himself higher and higher.
