Life Goes On

“Awake again, I see.”

Gerald looked out the large bay window of the living room to the dying sea-side town that once held his greatest wish, to live out his life with his wife. She, like the town, died due to disastrous hurricane winds that took out the piers, the boats, and many of the houses and attractions. That was five years ago. He remained because this was their home.

Their kids wanted him to live with them, but he didn’t want to be a burden. Their daughter’s interest in him, while full of good intentions, also had a tang of aversion to the idea. Her husband was a successful fire sprinkler supplier. He provided for her every need, and never suspected she was cheating on him. Not that Gerald could prove it, but he did know his daughter. If she didn’t get all the attention she needed, she had a tendency to wander.

Their son and his wife lived in an apartment near the city. They still wanted him to live with them although they didn’t have the space. “We’ll make it work, just come home with us” he always said. His wife, that dear, was also as adamant. But he wouldn’t budge. This was the house he bought for his wife, and darn it, he made a commitment to a good woman and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from keeping it. They even suggested moving in with him, making his son’s commute an hour and a half longer. Gerald wouldn’t allow that.

“So I live alone, waiting for that day” he said to himself. He found he talked to himself more and more as the days passed, specially as it continued to get quieter and quieter in his small town. The hurricane had pretty much destroyed much of the coast line making rebuilding next to impossible, or at least improbable. This killed the tourist economy.

“Which is a good thing” he said. “I hated those tourists, with their loud kids and always walking anywhere and everywhere. Them thinking they can just walk up to my porch and sit and litter everywhere. Always in the way. Can’t even go to the grocery without bumping into them.” He caught himself, realizing he was talking to no one. He looked at his hands, old hands. He turned them over a couple of times, examining every wrinkle and callous. “Did I become the old man who’s always chasing kids off of his lawn?” He chuckled at that. Cheryl would have laughed at him.

Yes, she would have laughed, and comforted him in this lonely time. She was the only thing that kept him from walking into the ocean forever, to join her. If he did she would be so mad, and he loved and respected her too much to do that.

“My love is for always, my dear.” He picked up her framed picture and resumed his watch on the porch, in the rocking chair next to hers.