M Y J O S I E
*************************
As I sit here in the gloom contemplating my final days, the storm
raging upstairs these past few hours has abated, the thunder now replaced
by the sound of my Josie's gentle snoring, from which I take comfort. I am
after all hearing it maybe the last time in my life, and I have selfishly
let her sleep more than I should, the longer to enjoy the sound. All good
things must however come to an end, and I must wake her soon as she has to
finish building the wall tonight for the plan to succeed.
There is only the one lightbulb which is still working down here
now, and that is around the corner at the bottom of the old staircase,
behind where my Josie is working. This has meant that as she has laid each
course of bricks, the light reaching into my small alcove has gradually
been reduced to a level where I can now no longer see much, and I have had
to stop reading.
We have not spoken to each other since she started building this
morning; we had made our farewells beforehand, and knew that if we were to
talk today, the parting would become all the more unbearable. I have been
watching her though, and have caught her occasionally looking with concern
at my situation, only to return an encouraging smile to let her know that
I accept my fate, and will cope with it. Her resolve has never come into
question; I have always known that what her body might lack in physical
strength was more than made up for by a steely determination to finish any
task she started. Shortly she will resume, putting into place the last few
of the bricks which will form the only barrier ever to have come between
us during our marriage.
We have been together, as of last Thursday week, for fifty three
wonderfully happy years; as with any partnership there has of course been
an occasional argument, but nothing so serious as to diminish the love we
have always had for each other. We certainly never disagreed about buying
this cottage, with it's views out across the sea, and it's walled garden
where it seemed virtually anything would grow. We had hoped that we would
raise a family here and complete our idyll, but after many years of that
hope, we eventually came to accept that it was just not to be.
Because we had no children nor indeed any other living kin, we had
decided, after our Silver Wedding, that if we were lucky enough to still
be together in our old age, neither of us would want to be a burden on the
other; that if the time were to come that one of us would fall ill to the
extent that the other could no longer cope, we would discuss ways that the
burden could be lightened for the other.
However, upon finally being given the diagnosis of the illness, and
told the speed with which it was liable to spread, I soon realised that my
Josie had obviously given greater thought to our pledge than I had.
She very convincingly argued that the knowledge of the disease, and
the terminal nature of it's prognosis, would give sufficiently believeable
grounds for an apparent suicide. The violent storms at this time of year
would explain why a body would not be found at the base of the cliffs, the
local tides and currents being notorious for swiftly carrying wreckage out
away from the coast; the wallet which my Josie would position between the
path and cliff-edge guiding the local constabulary to the conclusion that
suicide was the reason for the disappearance. Meanwhile she would still be
able to offer comfort to me, albeit through a brick wall, until such time
as the disease took it's course, by this time only a matter of a few days.
The good doctor's assurances that the end would be both swift and painless
had dealt with my only real reservation about the scheme; the thought of a
slow lingering end from starvation was one which I had found myself unable
to bear the thought of, let alone go through.
Once she sets the last few bricks into place, the physical barrier
between us will be complete, and I will then be alone, separated from my
love of over fifty years, and with a very dismal future to contemplate.
A sharp, tapping noise somewhere. I look over, noting that my Josie
can now only be seen from the neck upwards. I smile at her, guiltily, as I
realise that I must have fallen asleep a while ago; there are now several
more courses of bricks in place than were there earlier.
She finishes tapping the brick into place, another course complete,
and looks down at me questioningly; her lifelong concern for me is still
plainly evident even at this stage. I want to tell her that she should not
worry, that I accept the situation and will cope, but truth to tell I am
not certain that I will. I am scared as to what the next few days will
bring as the illness takes it's inexorable course. I can only hope that
the doctor's prognosis will prove to be correct, and that the onset of the
coma will free me of the anguish I might otherwise have had to endure. To
express my thoughts would anyway break our agreement, so my answer is to
merely nod and give what I hope is an encouraging smile. It will not help
matters now if she takes pity on me, if her resolve was to waver for even
a moment, and she was to start dismantling the wall.
She returns my smile, apparently content, and carries on. I marvel
at the skill she exhibits, although after a lifetime together it does not
surprise me; she has always been the practical one of us, and has needed
to be even more so since I became confined to the wheelchair.
I try to read her thoughts, maybe the garden; she decided to change
around the flowerbeds this year, to try and cut down the amount of weeding
necessary by cramming in as many flowering plants as possible. I am sure
that it would have looked stunning, but I will not see it now. More likely
though she is composing the weekly shopping list, as the mobile shop will
be calling tomorrow afternoon.
We both start, and look upwards as the sound of the phone ringing
upstairs breaks into our thoughts. She looks back over toward me, and as I
shake my head slowly, she nods in agreement and gives another smile; the
caller can wait. These are our last few precious moments together and are
not to be intruded upon.
Presently the phone ceases it's clamour, and my Josie gives a shrug
and carries on with the wall. Whoever was tryimg to call us will no doubt
try again, though who it could be at this time of night, I have no idea. A
wrong number probably, as ours is very similar to that of a guest house in
the picturesque fishing village a little way along the coast.
We actually spent our honeymoon there, at the end of a long summer,
and fell in love with the area. We first saw this cottage then, in a bit
of a shambles as it had been empty for some while, but we knew it was for
us and had bought and moved into it within a month.
The next few months were to give my Josie ample chance to show what
she could do; my practical abilities limited, and work keeping me away for
long periods. With no previous experience, she nonetheless had the cottage
beautifully furnished and decorated both inside and out by the following
summer, the garden providing flowers for every room and salads for us as
well. The first of many crops of vegetables were had that year, with fruit
from trees and bushes the year after.
This low-ceilinged cellar was ideal for storage of our produce, and
enabled us to be almost totally self-sufficient. In latter years though,
as the digging became too much, the garden has become more decorative than
productive, hence our increasing reliance now upon the weekly visit of the
mobile shop for the heavier items.
The cellar still retains the scents from its usage though; where I
now sit were the shelves for the trays of apples. The old cider press that
we found in the garden was also put to very good use down here.
Other memories of our life together, some familiar, but some others
long forgotten, come jostling for my attention as I sit here, and I try to
cling to them to see me through the days ahead.
I wonder why it is suddenly so dark, and realise that yet again I
have been dozing. A moment of panic, as I think that maybe I have missed
our final farewell, that maybe my Josie has tried to spare me the distress
of final parting and that now the wall is complete, but there is still one
brick to be placed; the light is obscured by my Josie's arm which reaches
through the small opening.
I stretch up, taking her hand in mine, trying to communicate all of
my lifetime's love through one last touch. I cling tightly, finding it all
but impossible to let go, as despair invades my thoughts. My Josie senses
this, and with one last gentle, reassuring squeeze, she withdraws her hand
from mine, one of the diamonds on her eternity ring catching the light and
glinting as her hand disappears through the gap.
Tears fill my eyes as I close them and try to hold onto that final
tiny sparkle as a poignant and fitting memory of the woman who has been as
a beacon of light in my life.
I listen and hear but cannot bear to watch as she pushes that final
brick into the gap. A few taps and then silence; the deed is done. I keep
my eyes closed to try and stave off the tears. Never before have I felt so
alone and I almost submit to self-pity as I consider the true enormity of
what she has done, but the comfort I draw from our last touch gives me the
strength to resist those feelings and face the coming days.
The noise of car doors being slammed comes from outside, two sets
of footsteps crunch up the front path and into the porch, the ring of the
doorbell and familiar voices hailing; our local Police. I can faintly hear
the sounds of my Josie hurriedly sweeping up and tidying. We had hoped for
a day or two to ourselves, in which to share memories of our life together
before the illness would inevitably make conversation a one-sided affair,
but this would not now be possible with the Police and the other visitors
which no doubt would be coming during the next few days.
The wallet must have been found, but why should it have to be so
soon? Perhaps someone getting some fresh air on the top path on their way
home from the pub, more likely someone out walking their dog.
We had kept several cats through the years but we had never owned a
dog, not through any dislike of them but precisely because of this need to
be exercised throughout the year. We spent many happy hours strolling the
cliff paths during the warm summer evenings, but when the weather turned
colder we much preferred to stay indoors in front of a nice warm fire.
The voices call again, this time from the back; they must have gone
round and got themselves into the garden through the side gate. They will
have to be let in. There is no noise now coming through the wall, all the
tidying must be finished. I open my eyes but I know that there will be
only darkness. My Josie will have heard the car doors and turned off the
light so as not to show that the cellar was in use. She must have tidied
up in darkness. Her thoughtfullness even now is an inspiration to me, and
once again I marvel at her strength of character.
Smiling to myself at this thought, I reach out and press the button
which activates the lift which we had installed last year after the old
staircase was blocked off. It was in fact the heavy fall down those stairs
which had broken my leg so badly as to require amputation, causing me to
be confined to this wheelchair.
As I begin my ascent from the cellar to greet the visitors waiting
above, I think again of the strength that flowed into me from that final
touch of our hands, and I am sure now that I will be able to cope.
I never doubted that my Josie would.