Highly Commended - Short Story Competition 2012

"Love is a Many Splendored Thing" by Patsy Miranda

 
"It's a girl" the nurse called out, quickly swabbing out the newborn's mouth and wrapping her up in a warm towel, as she handed over this precious bundle to me. My first grandchild!

"Geraldine" I whispered, trying hard not to blub. I could hardly see as it is, and Geraldine was already receiving her first baptism from the tears that streamed down my face. Surprisingly, I also felt like giggling and laughing at the same time - hysteria? Thankfully, the nurse seemed to have seen it all, and encouraged me to sit down with Geraldine. At least she didn't think I was disturbed, although I would have freely admitted to having been a borderline case for the last 6 months. The nurse was attending to my daughter now, and my mind was left to wonder back to another place in time ....

***

The restaurant was a chorus of sounds. The clatter of cutlery as people sampled the delicious tapas dishes. The clinking of glasses as they sipped, or in some cases, guzzled the chilled Spanish wines, or the very popular Sangria served in a glass jug so that the attractive mixture of fruit was temptingly visible. The happy buzz of many different voices in conversation.

"Happy Anniversary, darling" Gerry had raised his glass of wine to me, before taking a large appreciative sip and then a slightly longer drink.

"Happy Anniversary, darling" I echoed back, placing my hand affectionately on his.

Our twenty-second wedding anniversary, and still I felt a quickening of my heartbeat every time I touched him. Incredible! How had we lasted this long when so many of our friends had not been so lucky?

"A penny for them" Gerry said, a small playful smile curving his full sensuous mouth, a bushy eyebrow arched in enquiry. Then he was busy looking through the menu, while I sat back and let him choose our food. I knew I really ought to do this, but habits die hard, don't they?
 
He really needed to eat more healthily, and smoke less! But I never had the heart to push him hard on anything, I loved him too much to spoil his fun. Yes, my Gerry was someone who liked to live life to the full, and alii ever felt was guilt if I tried to stop him, even for his own sake. I tried to push these thoughts from my mind and enjoy the evening like so many of the couples and families around us.

"I'm straight for bed" he said, yawning and pecking me quickly on the forehead, when we got back home.

"I'll join you in a mo" I said, hurriedly making for the bathroom.

I was a little disappointed when I got into bed with him. He was already asleep and snoring lightly. "Silly" I thought, "not on your twenty-second anniversary, and we'll be grandparents in a few months' time". But I needed a cuddle badly, and I tucked myself against him and lay there awake for a time before I drifted into blissful sleep.

The alarm woke me from a strange dream. Gerry and I were on an aeroplane together. There was no one else on this plane, and the view through the window of the plane was grey and misty. When I reached for Gerry's hand, it felt as cold as the view outside! And then he wasn't beside me anymore ... My nightclothes were damp with sweat when I sat up in bed, and I stretched out towards Gerry to try and wake him. Nothing. Just a cold limp arm, and the way his mouth and eyes were open filled me with a heart-stopping dread.

"Gerry, Gerry, please wake up" I pleaded, trying not to scream out in my anxiety. I knew something was badly wrong, but I prayed to the God whom I believed always answered my prayers, whilst I rushed to the phone and rang 999! I rang my daughter after that and did my best to tell her without causing her too much distress in her present condition.

They pronounced him dead on arrival. He had had a massive heart attack. At 52, I didn't think God had been fair to us. I was 45 and apparently life was supposed to be starting for me. Instead, it had come tumbling down and left me in tatters that morning! The doctor at the hospital prescribed a sedative for me to take when I got home. I didn't get the prescription. I told myself that I needed to feel this pain, not blunt it with pills. Gerry had been the love of my life and I knew that no one would replace him. I had to mourn his passing. So I ended up at my daughter's, sleeping in the spare room - or not sleeping at all, but pacing the kitchen some nights. Sometimes my daughter would join me, and we talked about Gerry over a cup of coffee. But somehow I managed to persuade her to return to bed.

"That baby of yours will be wide awake when he's born, with all that coffee you're drinking!"

And slowly through the fog of my grief, I began to at least look forward to the arrival of my grandchild. After a few weeks I knew I had to go back home and face life without Gerry. My daughter and her partner begged me to stay a little longer with them, but I knew that if I did that I might never be able to cope on my own, ever!

I stumbled through those lonely months after Gerry was taken from me. I gave up my job as a carer and tried to concentrate on sorting out things at home. It took me hours to go through his clothes and possessions - everything brought back so many memories, that I spent much of the time in tears, just remembering! Thank goodness that my daughter called me on the phone every day, and she came over to visit as often as she could in the last two months of her confinement. She had always been a bright and happy girl - she took after Gerry, and she brought some of that much needed sunshine back into my life.

Geraldine was born on what would have been Gerry's 53rd birthday, and I believed that this was God's way of consoling me. I can't say when the numbness and pain began to leave me, but I can truly say that every time I saw my granddaughter, I felt such love well up inside me that I became part of the human race again!

A year later, and on a sunny morning in May, we sprinkled Gerry's ashes under the fir tree in my back garden. Afterwards we had a small buffet and some drinks with our friends inside the house. The air was still too chilly for anything outside.
 
"She's going to turn into quite a beauty" or "Isn't she lovely" or "What a gorgeous baby" were some of the things they said about my grandchild, and of course I heartily agreed with all of them!

Now that the ache in my heart had healed a little, I started to feel a certain sense of guilt at what I believed to be my self-indulgence, and the thought of work began to creep back into the waking hours of my mornings. I had loved my work as a carer, and I believe that I had always been conscientious and caring in giving satisfaction to my service users. But now I felt I had something more to offer these people. From my grief and pain had come an understanding of how devastating bereavement and loss can be, and a new dimension had been added to the nature I was already blessed with. I was ready to embrace life again, grateful for every moment I was given, willing to open up to all that was around me, and to learn to love and be loved with a new heart.

So when I rang the agency on a Friday morning, it was with a certain sense of excitement and anticipation that I said "Hi, it's Julia here. Sorry I've been away for so long, but I'd like to come in and see you on Monday if you've got some time for me?"

"Welcome back, Julia! Look forward to seeing you again."