There was a knock on the door. It broke into my two bedroom flat. The only noise other than my heavy breaths was the grandfather clock in the other room, quietly ticking away each patient second. A beam of sunlight shone through a crack in the brown curtains, showing the dust floating around the room. I sat to the left of this beam, in my armchair, holding a framed picture of Mary-Ann.
Another knock. Followed by a young man’s voice.
“Taxi for Mr A. Thimbleton? Mr Thimbleton, are you ok?”
“Aye!” I snapped, annoyed, rather ridiculously at this man, for breaking the tranquillity. I kissed Mary-Ann’s framed picture, before placing it gently on the top of the piano. Picking up the bunch of red roses, I smoothed my trousers, and after a few attempts, heaved myself up. I clutched my walking stick, and walked, rather slowly to the door.
I opened the door to see a man, no, a boy of about 20. He was texting, and jumped when I opened the door.
“Ah, Mr Thimbleton, I was starting to worry!” exclaimed the rather anxious youth standing in front of me. “Shall I assist you down the stairs?”
“My name” I said “is Allan. And no, I have managed for the last 14 years, I’m sure I can manage today”
He looked hurt. I admit, I felt a little bad, but he wasn’t the one who was an 87 year old widower. And today, was the day of my dear Mary¬-Ann’s funeral. So, excuse me if I was a little tetchy, but my heart was in other places.
I hobbled down the dull grey stairs, each second, the smell of urine got more and more intense. I wanted to spend as little time as possible in the stair-well, and was considering accepting the young man’s offer, but with my natural stubbornness, I persisted in hobbling down each step.
I was not surprised to see the grey clouds and light drizzle, but it made my heart sink a little more as I climbed into the back of the five seater taxi. The driver (who told me his name was Joe) already knew where we were going. St Martin’s church, down Alice Street. The very place I had married Mary-Ann, some 60 years ago. Only, Joe knew that today was not such a happy occasion, and I was grateful for him respecting my need to not be involved in constant small talk.
As the taxi drove along, I looked out of the window. I saw people going about their everyday lives.
Young lovers walking, holding hands. Mums hurrying along with pushchairs. Business men running to catch the train. Tramps, watching the day unfold miserably in-front of them. Pull yourself together! I told myself. What would Mary-Ann think of all this? A big fuss about nothing, that’s what she’d think.
It was times like this I wished I was more of a religious man, although in truth, both my-self and Mary-Ann had never had any time for any of that. I wished I could find some sort of peace in thinking I would one day be reunited with her. As I thought of her sweet face smiling at me, I couldn’t stop a tear from falling and landing on the roses on my lap. And with each tear that followed, it felt as though small pieces of me were breaking off. Pieces I would never get back.
We were nearly at the church now. I could see the people gathering outside. They looked like one big thunder cloud, dressed from head to toe in black. I spotted my daughter, Mellissa in the crowd first. She looked almost as broken as me. She was with her husband, Richard, and their oldest daughter, Eve. My other grandchildren had families of their own now, and lived so far away.
As we pulled up, Mellissa noticed me, and came over.
“Oh Dad, are you ok?” she said, opening the door.
“Never better” I grunted, heaving myself up once more. She winced at her question. Once again, I felt a pang of guilt, but I had other things on my mind.
“Come on Dad, let’s go inside” she said, grasping my hand. She smiled at me, but it was a watery smile, her eyes filled with tears and concern.
“You go in love, I’ll be there in a minute” I said, trying to smile back at her.
“But Dad…” she argued.
“I just need a minute. I’ll be right in” I promised. She nodded, and kissed my cheek. She re-joined Richard and Eve, and they walked into the church.
The area cleared. But my head remained clouded. I can’t do this. I can’t. That was all I could think. In a moment of panic, I found my legs had started to move me out of the church gates. I walked along the high street, my head still not sure where I was going. I passed cars, houses, children playing. It was then I realised that I was heading to the bridge down the road. It was a bridge that was over a roaring river. I had fond memories as a young child, walking down the bank of this river, and later on, walking with Mary-Ann, and even later still, pushing Mellissa in her pram.
I soon found myself, looking over. The wind in my face, I felt at peace. I had had a happy 87 year life. And, a 60 year marriage. Not many people could say that. I made the decision, I didn’t want to spend the few measly years left of my life in depression and despair. I didn’t want to become the bitter old man you see down the street, scowling at children. No, I wanted to leave, whilst I was still me.
I climbed the railing. Aware of the few cars stopping behind me, I walked out a little further, and jumped, before it was too late.
Hurtling towards the grey realms beneath me, I pictured Mary Ann’s face. I was at peace with myself.
Forgive me, Mary-Ann. Please, forgive me.
And then, the world went black.