The Dark Side of the World

Hollowness. The pit compiled mostly of complete loneliness and utter emptiness. I fell into pit as I watched her soul drift onward up the stairs up to what must be a better place. Through all of my life, I had spent my best times with her, and worst times with her. She had experienced life with me before we even knew the world of adulthood. I helplessly grasped for a niche with which to pull myself out of this lull. I had little say in the matter for if I stayed adrift too long, my only son might not ever be the lively child he was meant to be at his age again.

I brushed the single tear off my cheek and removed her limp head from my lap ever so delicately. I felt the calm before the storm as I smoothed my ragged hair into a somewhat presentable manner, and turned towards the door--which upon entering I had closed--to find my 11 year old son, Fletcher, standing stiff with thorough shock and the door half open. In acknowledgement to his shock, I monotonously stated, "She's not hurting anymore." I had not pondered the repercussions of my statement upon the young child, leaving myself quite startled when he suddenly broke down into tears. After a moment of pondering our course of action, I set forth to extinguish the fiery inferno within my bawling son.

I approached him, he backed away, tripping and falling onto the carpeted ground of the ground floor in our house. He kicked his legs in such a fashion that made it impossible to get any closer than 3 feet. Though I knew the precedence of the situation, I decided to make my way down the hall to the kitchen and craft my daily afternoon tea from which I had derived the habit of drinking after the countless nights that I was vigilant and tending to my beloved wife. Time passed. Five minutes, he had stopped kicking. Twelve minutes and I saw him down the hallway, just assuming a fetal position. My tea cooled to room temperature. About the time I was taking my last sip, he lethargically arose from his position, and stumbled dejectedly down the hall, leaning on the wall. Upon arriving at the end of the hallway, Fletcher stopped shuffling his feet continuing to support himself on the wall. He glanced up at me, before he proceed to stare at the floor.

I determined that it is in the better interest of both Fletcher and I to share with him my plans for the next two days. Talking was never my strong suit, especially not to children. I was always terse, getting the ideas that need to be known out while keeping everything else swirling around in my mind. So, trying my best to account for him being a child, I started, "So... Your mother... She's um... She passed away. So, uh, we need to do some adult things in order to make sure she gets in the right place, okay? With that in mind, I need you to run to the store for cleaning supplies," I say gently while I take out a piece of paper, scratching down a list of items. "I know it isn't the closest walk, but be lucky you have sidewalks. Where I grew up, we didn't have any sidewalks. I need to take care of a few 'adult' things." I retrieved my leather wallet located in drawer halfway down the hallway my son had just walked through, and after taking twenty dollars out and handing him both the list and the money, placed my wallet back in the drawer, shutting it lightly.

As soon as the door closed and I made sure Fletcher got to the end of the driveway, I called the local funeral home. I found my seat in my favorite chair on the back patio before dialing the flip phone that seemed to never die. As I talked, choking up briefly every so often, I eyed my surroundings. We didn't have the largest property, but we had a good plot in the suburbs of a small town. The abundance of lights piercing through the veil of darkness indicated that it was just about 15:00 and people were getting home from their workplaces, ready to spend a little bit of time outside. I tried to imagine what this land might look like if it were all lit up. Back in my early days of school, they had taught the kids about some alleged "sun" that would rise each morning and set during the evenings. The "sun" would illuminate everything that could see it, making everything colorful. The last thing I learned is that like the lights we have now, the "sun" would cast shadows where there wouldn't be any colors. After investigations in my high school and college years lead to wild goose chase after wild goose chase, I've come to think of it more as a fantasy than reality. I grew up in complete darkness. There was no "sun" indicating the hour of day, only electrical clocks, night was dark and so was day. The only solace from darkness was the lights set up to illuminate almost every corner of every place you could possibly think of. I finished up the conversation with the funeral home and sat, observing and wondering.