I start this morning the same way I do every morning. Yet, today was different.
The same route I have had for years now. Minus Paul now. He's been gone for about 14 months now. It's still an adjustment for me. We are old, so it's best to accept death, at some point in one's life. Usually, it's not so sudden, but he at least he passed in his sleep. I got the burden of waking up next to a dead man.
I make my bed. go to the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror. I get lost in my thoughts trying to figure out when the young beauty I once was gone. When the image reflecting at me got replaced by this old maid. Today I told myself to be brave and embrace what's to come.
Then I change and head to the kitchen. Ignoring the ever-growing pile of past-due bills on the counter. Today, I organize them and paymost of them.
I make breakfast, pet, and feed my only house companion. Ruffus, the fluffy and spoiled housecat Paul, brought home three years ago. After finding the scared kitten on his car tire, at the local market. Ruffus has lived here ever since, and he has stopped growing. Now it's more expansive, but at least he's not skin and bones. Today I filled several bowls for him and put out a massive bowl filled with water for him.
Paul had 2 rules, no plants in the house, and no cats on the counters. Ruffus sits on the counter and meows as I eat my food. I spend most of that time reading the paper or scrolling on whateverBook trying to keep tabs on my daughters and grandchildren. None of them bother to visit anymore. Only one daughter, Brenda, and her 3 boys came to Paul's funeral. I changed my will a week later, not one of them will see a penny from us. Not that there's much left anyway. Today, I sent loving messages to my family.
Next, I water the peace lily I keep on the kitchen table, whispering to it how I can't wait to see it bloom. Then I make my way to my garden. These old legs have seen better days. As I slide open the glass door, my paradise comes to view.
Every shade of the rainbow present made my heart swell. A lot of time, energy, and planning went into this garden. Springs and summer spent with Paul flash in front of my eyes every time I step out here. Today, flashes of my children playing over the years, join in—tears form and spillover. A knobby, arthritic finger reaches up to wipe them away.
I take my time to wander and admire, to prune and tend. Every flower, petal, and plant talked to, making sure they get the best care. My love shines throughout this mystical land that I have created.
That we have created. God, I miss Paul.
Next, it's time for lunch with Katie, the sweet young girl who lives next door. One day, not long after Paul left us, she came over with a plate full. Nothing special, an ordinary sandwich, and some chips. But that was enough to make this old gal cry. Ever since I instead that she has lunch, admire the garden take a plant if she wants. Some days she visits two or three times, between classes or after. Today, I made her grilled cheese with three kinds of cheese. Using the remaining butter, bread, and cheese I had. I didn't mind, though.
Today, Katie wore a bright smile and sad eyes, but I didn't pry. Instead, I insisted she take my peace lily and a few more plants from my garden. She ate while I pulled clippings. I kept her so busy my untouched sandwich on my plate went overlooked. She left with her arms full of plants.
I spend my late afternoons lounging on the couch or reading. My eyes have gotten worse. So today I go through my closets and dig out essential things, sentimental things. Things I want the memories of, one more time.
I spend my evenings at the local firehouse playing bingo, being social. You know the things they tell us old folk we should do. Then I would have dinner with the ladies that I like.
Yet today, I make the last frozen dinner in my freezer, I prepare it with my special ingredient. I recheck that Ruffus has enough food. I check my mail; it slipped my mind earlier, I leave my front door unlocked. I set the mail with the other pile of junk on the counter. I sit at the table and chew the bullshit they pass off as a tray dinner nowadays.
Pondering what to do next, I check my to-do list. Only one more thing to do it would seem—time to wait. Soon as I finish my meal, I begin to feel tired. Not surprising at this age, but I sense the edge to it. I throw my trash away and wash my fork, and it's hard work as my body feels like it weighed down with lead.
Normally, I go to sleep in my cold and empty bed. Today I lay down in my favorite flower bed. Tulips surround me, and I slip off into dreams. Paul's there waiting, I just know it.
I let go and become forever a flower.
