Short Stories

When The Grandfather Clock Stops

By Lexie3234

Why? That is my only question. Why? Looking around me, I watched as the plain black walls closed in. I looked forward towards the swirling gust of silence that awaited me. I waited;I waited for the piercing cry of my voice to rip through the sky, creating a shrill sound escapable by no one. I looked, listened, and felt. I saw my life flash before my eyes and heard my mother's voice crying out. I finally felt the excruciating pain of the reality the world had given me, running through my veins with swift steps that would linger for days.

Waking up, I gasped, trying to breathe in the oxygen lost within the world of my dreams. I took in my surroundings, looking up at the familiar grandfather clock continually ticking. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The sound, somewhat resembling a heart, nearly lulling me back into the land of my complicated, uncontrollable thoughts. My eyes shot back open at the sounds of people outside my door, shouting, trying to find the medicine my grandfather had been taking the past week. I still didn't even know why he was sick or how. He just was.

"It's just a cold," or "It's fixable." That's all I heard them say. My best friend and greatest inspiration was dying, and they wouldn't even say it to my face. They were just trying to protect us, but in their attempt to prolong his life, they forgot to hide his death. We all knew what was coming. No one was ever going to accept it, but it was just a matter of time. Even if he survived this, he'd probably be stuck in a chair for the rest of his life, repeating the same motions he did the day before; before he even knew it, he would wither away with no trace left.

Being brought back from my thoughts, I looked at the wooden door across from me, and slowly climbed up from my pallet on the floor to walk towards the one thing between me and my grandfather. The door, slightly ajar, swung open before I could even reach for the doorknob. I watched as my aunt ran clumsily through it and into the living room on the other side of the room I had slept in the night before, tears staining her flushed cheeks.

My heart broke. I hated seeing my family crumble from pain, sadness, and suffering, but most of all, I hated knowing the reality I'd have to face when I walked through the door, now completely open. I stepped, as quietly as I possibly could, into the kitchen outside of the dining area I'd used as a bedroom and then into my grandparent's bedroom. One step was all it took to know what events had occurred while I was asleep.

I didn't even need my eyes to see what was happening. All I had to do was listen to the sobbing, and I knew that he was gone. I knew that I would never again get to see him smile or hear him laugh. I would never be able to go to church with him on Sundays, or eat breakfast with him at our favorite restaurant. Now he would never be able to see me live out my dreams, that I had promised him I would make come true.

My presence in the room went completely unnoticed, and I walked back towards the room where the grandfather clock still stood; that room being the same room where I silently wept a river of tears that could flood even the largest oceans.

I woke up for the third time that morning and walked half-heartedly into the living room. I looked at my surroundings, feeling as if something was missing. I felt as if there was a void in the room that could never be filled. Then I realized that the grandfather clock, once ticking loudly, had stopped. The pendulum had stopped swinging, and the clock just stood there with no purpose; it was as if it had been snapped in half and thrown away to be fed to the soil like scraps are to dogs.

This room reminds me of my heart, I thought, memorizing the complicated designs on the simple furniture covering various parts of the room. Not only that, but it was missing something. It was missing the tick tock of the most beautiful piece of artwork that the room showcased.

After that, I got the 'everything is going to be okay' speech, and the 'if you need anything, come to me' talk. All I really wanted to do was crawl into a hole and get rid of the pain. I wanted to throw the pain away into the empty void created within my heart and to, not only fill that void, but get rid of the pain. I knew the pain of losing him could never truly leave me, no matter how much I wished and wished it would. I mourned for days on end, and when his visitation finally came, I couldn't stand to watch as pictures of him and me came onto the screen. His smile was the first thing you noticed in all of his pictures. That amazing smile made me feel elation every time I saw it, but the loss of it brought tears to my eyes, and I could barely breathe.

Everything people said to try and comfort me just made it worse. All I could do was cry, and that was it. I couldn't comfort other people, when I could barely keep myself from having a mental breakdown. I just couldn't live with myself, and for the rest of that school year, I was sad, lonely, and, deep down, I was just depressed.

Time passed slowly after the clock's ticking stopped. A few months passed, and it was already September, the month that my grandfather should have turned ninety-three. His birthday, seemingly far away, had crept up on us in the blink of an eye, and my family gathered at the house where he'd lived for fifty years with my grandmother. It was a sad day, but also an important one. It symbolized the importance of the life he'd lived.

We had cake and watched our favorite football team play. We played games and had fun. The only thing that was missing was, once again, that tick tock. The one thing that could create warmth in any room was the one thing missing. My own heart wanted to stop at this realization. This realization creating insight to the dark, confusing truth; maybe he was ready to go.

I thought about these six words for days on end, but couldn't come up with any ideas as to what they meant. These six words gave me thoughts I would hold on to for weeks, just to find their meaning. Finally, I gave up, knowing I'd find out eventually. Shouldn't time give wisdom?
Time wasn't what finally led me to the true realization. It was one day at church. He was mentioned in a sermon, and my grandma and I couldn't help but cry. Then we heard what the preacher said.

"May he rest in peace, for we knew he would want it this way. He gave us smiles, love and joy, but also tears, pain, and loss. He was stubborn and adventurous. He lived out his life to the fullest, giving us all that he could, but now he's living again, in a better place where you will meet him once more. Stay happy, for that is what he wanted." That was all that the preacher said before the church accepted money offerings.

I couldn't focus on anything except for what the preacher had said. I understood that my grandpa fully believed in his church and relationship with God, but now I also understood that he was happy and living better. This didn't make his death happy, but it gave me relief. These thoughts made me feel less guilt and grief. They made me feel less like it was my fault that he'd died and couldn't enjoy the world he was living in when he was alive. They made me realize that he could enjoy himself more now and could find more people to love and cherish before the rest of the family could meet him again.

They made me realize that the clock was ticking once more. It wasn't happy, but that doesn't mean that it had to be sad.