A Short Story about Grief and Loss
Louisa walked to the end of the trail that wound through the forest of oaks and pines that survived decades of thunderstorms, heatwaves, and ice storms. An occasional broken branch dangled from their trunks without bringing down the mighty trees. Animals climbed them, birds nested in the safety of their boughs, and insects found their way under the bark. Louisa looked at each tree and each sign of life with awe and wonder as she silently made her way through their forest home.
Home…she struggled with that word lately. Can I call a place home if we’re about to lose it? Louisa asked herself as she stepped into a small clearing and spotted the wind phone. The receiver nestled in a hand-carved box no bigger than a bird’s house. A cord woven from natural fibers connected the phone to the box and appeared to be real—real enough for someone to be on the other end.
Lousia had loved the idea of wind phones when she heard a library lecturer talk about the first ones in Japan. She researched the idea when she had gotten home from the community event she attended—trying to stay connected to people as she carried the grief that seemed to be her only companion at times. She found the list of wind phones being built in her state and mapped a nearby location weeks earlier.
She hadn’t planned to actually visit one. She thought she would feel ridiculous holding a receiver connected to nothing. On Saturday, though, she lost all hope in her ability to find a way forward. She combed through the mail and online messages about bills due. She organized all the medicine in the cabinet to see what refills were needed. She looked at the figures again, putting all the numbers on a spreadsheet the way her friend and mentor had showed her. Not enough. It’s just not enough. What do I do now? she thought as she closed her computer and sat in the office chair she had found on the curb years ago when a neighbor moved and downsized.
With a quiet calmness, she went to her dresser and opened the top drawer—her treasure drawer filled with rocks from hikes, cards from family and friends, and the few things she had left from her family members who had passed away.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispered. “I don’t know what else to do.” She picked up his two pocket watches and the bicentennial coin he had given her in 1976 when they watched the American Freedom Train roll through their town. He knew she loved studying history and would be fascinated by the artifacts on board. Martin Luther King Jr.’s ministerial robes. A moon rock. Judy Garland’s ruby slippers. George Washington’s copy of the Constitution.
She packed the watches and the coin in a small box with lavender flowers on the sides. She added her own watch and a locket and brooch from her grandmother. She added pins from her great-aunt and a few items from her grandfather. Her mother’s wedding and engagement rings were the last items in. She couldn’t find the words to apologize to her mother, not that she would hear her. She had been gone two years.
Louisa had taken care of both parents, never letting a need go unmet. She lost pay at times when caregivers didn’t show up, but Louisa believed she was doing the right thing. When her parents passed away, she was left with a mountain of debt that had to be settled by the probate court. She hired a lawyer at her friend’s advice since navigating the legal system seemed quite overwhelming to both of them.
When the box was packed with the treasures, Louise laid a hand-sewn handkerchief on top of the items before putting on the lid. At least they will go out of the house in something special.
On Sunday, Louisa drove the box to an antique collector that a co-worker had introduced her to. She spoke to him quickly, not wanting to linger over her new losses. These are only things, she kept telling herself. I still have all my memories.
She thanked him for helping to find buyers for everything in the box and drove away. As she circled through town and headed toward a nearby park to walk a bit before heading back to the house, she remembered the wind phone only one town over. She u-turned and found herself parking at the trailhead an hour later.
When she first reached the clearing, she stared at the phone with a sense of both curiosity and respect. She knew that someone had grieved enough to need a connection. Someone else had grieved enough to carry on the idea. Now here she was, connected to them through her own sorrow.
She picked up the receiver and hesitated. Tears filled her eyes. Finally, a place to release the words that no one left on earth had been around to hear. She needed to talk to the one person who truly had known her, who had believed in her, and who had walked with her through so many challenges over the past nineteen years. Emily had been her friend and her mentor, a connection to hope. She had helped Emily become stronger and find so much good to hang on to.
“Emily, sweet friend, I miss you. I miss everything about you. You knew me. You heard me. You took the time to see me. I’ve failed. I’m going to lose our home that you helped me fight for. You were there every step of the way. I’m so sorry. I wish you were here for a hug.
“I’m selling some things, but it won’t be enough…enough for college and medicine and light bills and insurance and co-pays at every doctor visit. We pay more interest on our medical bills each month than I even bring in. I failed.” Louisa stretched the cord long enough so she could rest against the nearest tree. Tears poured from her eyes, and her body began to shake with grief and pain.
“I failed our plan. I had the money. I’ve been working so hard. I got a third job. But the ER visit was two hundred and fifty up front. The medicine last month was one fifty just for Elliot. I’m still paying for my last surgery, and I have another coming up. We kept the house at seventy-eight degrees, but the electric bill was still high. I paid all the court fees and the rest of the money for the house, but that wiped me out.”
Louisa stopped talking and held the phone to her chest. Instead of talking into the receiver, she cried out to the wind. “If I have to fail, why did you have to take all of the people who loved me away? I don’t want to fail and have no one to hug me, no one to hear me, no one to still believe in me and know I did my best. She knew me, and this stupid world let her die.”
Louisa cried until no more of her brokenness and grief could pour out of her. She spoke six more words into the receiver. “I love you. I miss you.” She returned the phone to its box and looked back at the path she had walked on. Deep breaths. Breathe in. Exhale. Failure will not define me. I have been loved. I will still love my children. I will hold my head high like you taught me and remember that you called me Precious One and Sweet Friend.
Louisa hiked back down the trail and drove back to the house that she knew she was losing. Two things can be true at once—I am both broken and strong. I am losing everything, but I am not losing who I am.
She opened her actual phone and scrolled through the photos until she found one of her friend standing by her after they had shared one of their last meals together. “Let’s take a selfie,” her friend said before they got into their cars. Lousia looked at the photo and stared into Emily’s eyes “Don’t give up on me, ok? This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done, and I can’t do it alone.” With that, Louisa walked inside with a little less pain. She had released the words to the wind that she needed to say. A reminder of love had returned on the breeze.
chrispepple 