Falling Leaves (story)

*Warning: sad content, reference to death*

Autumn seemed to have passed her by. Lost in grief, she’d missed the pumpkin spiced lattes, the leaves changing colour, the last of the warm days. She hadn’t realised; she hadn’t cared. None of it mattered to her - how could it matter that the season was leaving, when what truly mattered to her was already gone?

Still, she was surprised to find herself accompanied on her walk by the first day of winter. The air had turned brisker, her breath clouded in front of her every step through the early dawn; the first freeze had made the ground harder and the foliage crisper.

Crunching through fallen leaves, a cooling cup of coffee clutched in hands she wished were gloved, she made her way to the bare patch of earth which still made her heart sore to see. The bulbs she’d planted would lie dormant until spring, but for now this resting place was a stark reminder of her loss.

Setting down her coffee on a nearby tree-stump, she pulled out a crumpled, tear-stained page and began to read aloud the words she’d spilled out onto it in the rawness of her grief:

Peaches,

I miss you in the small things, the un-anticipated moments when I expect you to be there, but you are not; I use my body as a shield to stop you squeezing through the doorway when I enter or leave a room - but all that brushes against my legs is cool, empty air.

At meal times, I’m no longer unavoidably conscious of your hopeful gaze as you wait impatiently for the reward of a plate to clean. If I spill something nowadays, I have to clean it up myself - no more calling on my faithful, joyful hoover.

Each morning, I wake up warm and refreshed - I haven’t slept so well in years. But I’d trade a thousand nights of unbroken sleep for just one more snuggle with you; after you worm your way under the sheets, delighted by your own benevolent cunning. I never thought I’d miss waking up, frozen, because you’d commandeered the duvet and I can’t get back underneath without disturbing you, or with cramping legs because they’ve been scrunched up too long so you can be comfortable.

Horrible as that day was, as full of sorrow, and pain, and anguish, your dying day is not what lingers with me. Mostly, it’s the pain of your absence. It’s not just an emotional pain, but a physical discomfort. My throat constricts and my chest gets tight every time I remember you, even if I don’t cry.

You were not supposed to go like that. You were supposed to pass quietly in your sleep, sprawled in front of a roaring fire after a day chasing rabbits in echoing woods, greying fur glistening with white snow under a winter sun. You were not supposed to go so soon. That’s the bit that really haunts me. I always knew I’d have to let you go one day, but I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t had time to make my peace with it; to reconcile myself with the knowledge that you had had a life well lived, or that it was your time, that you were ready.

You weren’t. You weren’t ready. How could you have been? Or maybe, you were, and that is why you went. Maybe it’s just me who wasn’t ready. Still isn’t ready. I’ve always been a dreamer; I’m forever day-dreaming about the future. The problem is, I still see you in those daydreams, you are still a part of them.

When I picture the future, I see you in it. You come bounding to the door like always, ecstatic to see me whether I was gone a minute or a day. Even though life would change so much, I’d always have made room for you. You’ve been my heart for so many years already, after all.

You were supposed to be there when I planned my wedding, and returned home from my honeymoon. You were supposed to meet my children, and keep them safe, and usher them into our next home. If I imagined any home being your last, it was the next one, not this one. It just doesn’t make sense to me that you aren’t here to feature in my some-days anymore.

I want you back. I miss you more than I know how to express, and I hate that I can’t let you know that with cuddles and kisses, the way I usually did. I can’t forgive myself for not being there to protect you, for disrupting your life with such a big change and then leaving you at the mercy of invaders. I know you must have been crying for me, searching for me, wondering where I was and why I wasn’t stopping them from hurting you and keeping you safe like I was supposed to. That was my job, and I failed.

I wish I could tell you how grateful I am to you for all the ways you made my life better in the time you were a part of it. I have so many memories, both good and bad, but all with you taking centre stage. From the very first day I met you and I found out that making you a part of my life was a possibility, I loved you implicitly and unconditionally.

May you rest in peace, my darling girl.

Exhausted though she felt, a strange sense of peace overcame her as she trudged wearily home. Though she would carry her grief for years to come, it felt much lighter now. While she waited for her tea to brew, she remembered a happier time; a puppy surrounded by love and squeaky toys, making children laugh as she eschewed them all in favour of the best toy of all - a mouldy old potato. She smiled and laughed at the memory, and quietly, she began to heal.