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"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY LOVE" |
| Written by bill neilson | |
| Sunday, 03 February 2008 | |
" HAPPY ANNIVERSARY LOVE."
It's 9am and he's ready to move. He's been up and about since 6.30. Showered and shaved and had weetbix, toast and a cup of black tea. A last meal? The house has been cleaned and tidied. Once again he notes the shabbiness of the lounge room walls. He's had the paint for two months, hasn't got around to doing anything about it yet. Too late now. Much too late. He's dressed in a blue, long sleeved shirt and grey slacks, brown deck shoes and a broad brim hat. It's a beautiful autumn day, cloudless cerulean blue sky and moderate temperature. He lays the letter on the kitchen table, addressed to his two daughters, Christine and Joanne. It's taken a long time to compose and write it and he hopes they can accept his decision with sympathy and understanding. Then he goes to the garden and picks a red rose, one of the last for the season, de-thorns the long stem and places it in the small carry bag, along with a bottle of Heineken beer and a glass. Back inside, he checks his shirt pocket, the sleeping pills are there, wrapped in waxed paper. Everything he needs. " All right Anderson, let's go" He's acquired the habit of talking to himself...aloud. I guess living on your own for more than a year can do that. Or maybe I'm just a strange old bastard. Whatever, he locks up and takes off. At the end of the path, he stops, looks back at the house, wonders how many times they've walked through that front door together. In more than forty years? Impossible to know. What he does know is that for more than a year he has done it on his own. He also knows that he's just done it for the last time.
The park is about ten minutes away and he's not in a hurry. It's a lovely day so he strolls slowly towards the river. When he reaches the park he's the only one there, apart from a young bloke in shorts and t-shirt, but he's at the far end of the reserve practicing his golf. Chipping golf balls about thirty metres towards an opened, upturned umbrella with limited success. They don't acknowledge one another and that's the way he wants it. He then takes the bench seat with a view across the river, under the shade of a huge gum tree. Checks the time, almost 10.30, still an hour to fill in, but that's okay, he can wait. He has his memories.
I was twenty-eight years old, she was four years younger. It was a whirlwind romance. We met, were engaged and in less than twelve months we were married. We had two daughters who gave us six healthy grandkids and we were all so happy. Then thirteen months, three weeks and two days ago she died. And part of me died with her. Today would have been our forty fifth wedding anniversary. The ceremony was held at 11.30am.
The early morning sun is throwing long shadows across the river. A pair of black swans is swimming past, shepherding four young cygnets. He remembers reading somewhere that they mate for life. So do I. On the ground a willy wag tail is darting about chasing invisible insects, his black tail swishing back and forth like an out of control metronome. The sunshine through the trees highlights the lovely autumnal colours of the leaves. And up high a kookaburra starts to laugh and is answered by another from the far bank. He looks at the time, 11 o'clock. Contemplates having a glass of beer while he waits, but before he can decide, a voice turns him around. " Good morning Steve, haven't seen you for a while" " Hello Alice. I've been around; I guess we've just been missing each other. How's Ian?" " Pretty much the same Steve. It's never going to get much better I'm afraid. He's home now with the speech therapist. I think he finds it less embarrassing if I'm not there."
Alice Smith is comparatively new to the neighbourhood, moved in about six or seven months ago with her husband Ian. Steve met them for the first time in this park, when he heard the story of Ian's accident. An accident that had left him with brain damage and an amputated right leg. He hadn't seen her for almost two months. " I'm sorry Alice" He felt awkward, didn't know what else to say. She gave a slight shrug to her shoulders, " It's okay Steve, I realise that we just have to play the cards we've been dealt, and do the best we can" As she spoke he noticed her eyes fill and she took a handkerchief from her pocket, turned her head and dried them. When she turned back she smiled, " You're looking very smart today Steven, have you been somewhere special or are you going?' " Nothing like that, but if Peggy had lived, today would have been our anniversary, and I just thought.........." His voice broke, he couldn't finish the sentence. " Oh Steve" she sat beside him on the bench, took his hand in hers. She knew there was nothing she could say. After a minute or two she released his hand " I have to go back to the house Steve, come with me and have some lunch with us. Please" " That's very kind of you Alice, but really I'd like to be by myself for a while" She was standing now, " I understand, of course, but promise me you'll call in on your way home. Ian would like to say hello I know" " We'll see what happens, and thanks again" He glanced at his watch, 11.25.
He'd only known the Smiths for a short time, but he really liked them both and for a moment or two he considered accepting her invitation. Then he remembered why he was here. He gave her time to reach the road, then took the rose from the bag and placed it on the seat. It's one of your favourites love, thought you might like it. After twisting the top off the bottle he poured a glass of beer and placed that by the rose. Then he took the tablets from his pocket, removed them from the wrapping and counted them, even though he knew how many there was. Eight. From what he'd read, that should do the job. Check the time again, 11.40.
Now he takes the glass in his left hand, with his right he holds the tablets. He puts two in his mouth and takes a drink of beer, waits ten seconds and repeats the process. When all the tablets are gone he replaces the now empty glass in the bag, picks up the bottle and drinks the remainder, smiles and wonders how long it will take for the tablets to have effect, gathers up the empty bottle and the wrapping from the tablets and walks them to the trash bin, fifteen metres away. Walking back to the seat he starts to feel light headed, his legs are getting weak, he sits down and takes the rose in both hands and holds it to his heart. Can't forget to take this. Closes his eyes and leans his head back, slides forward slightly to get comfortable and just before he loses consciousness notices a sharp pain in his chest. Happy anniversary love.
The black swans swim by, much closer together now. The kookaburras are both in the same tree now, side by side and on the ground two willy wag tails stand unnaturally still, heads touching. His body has slumped sideways on the bench, revealing a small plague fixed to the back rail. Dedicated to the memory of Peggy Anderson Beloved wife of Steven.. "we'll meet again" The red rose is nowhere to be seen. Copyright 2008 bill neilson |
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| Last Updated ( Monday, 04 February 2008 ) |
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