Bereft
06.11.10
He is gone, and I am bereft. Danny has been by my side for what seems like my entire life, and today I had to watch him being lowered into the ground, my heart sinking down with him. I had to sleep in the guest bedroom last night – better to wake up wondering where I am rather than where he is. Danny’s brother Tom, who has come over from Whitby to make the arrangements, understood immediately, and made up the bed in the main bedroom for himself.
I am in my house, surrounded by a slew of people who have come to pay their respects, wishing they would leave. Tom is a godsend – he greets everyone and makes them feel at home; he thanks them for coming, and for their kind words about Danny. He has even put together a spread of snack food, and he is constantly making sure our guests are comfortable. I stand here, worse than useless; I cannot even look at people. I try to shrink into a corner, to make myself invisible, but still they come to talk to me, to make much of me. I manage to excuse myself, and head upstairs to seek refuge there.
Going up the stairs is hard work for someone of my advanced years, but however much my joints grumble I must get up there. I must be alone. I feel bad for abandoning Tom – after all, he is grieving too – but he seems to cope better with the company of our visitors. Perhaps they help to distract him from his loss. I stand by the bedroom window looking out onto the front garden, waiting for signs that people are starting to leave. I think of days that will never be again; days on the beach at Filey, when I was still young enough to run into the water, evenings spent sitting on the sofa with the TV on, winter nights huddled around the gas fire after a stroll in the bracing wind. I remember his kind words, his smile, his gentle touch. I let the sweet sorrow wash over me, and the time passes.
The guests have been trickling out of the house for a while now. I venture out onto the landing, and peer over the bannister. Tom sits there alone, looking how I feel. I hobble down the stairs to join him. He smiles at me as I walk across the living room, towards him, and seeing him sit in Danny’s usual spot I think how much he looks like his brother. I sit down on the floor next to his feet and I rest my head on his lap. He smoothes the hair on my ears and I wag my tail.
“Don’t worry old girl,” he says, tickling my muzzle, “I’ll look after you now.”
okay you got me good. Didn’t see that POV coming. Irrespective of the shaggy dog, I really liked the melancholic tone throughout, as you say quite different from your usual.
marc nash
Very touching – and the ending caught me totally by surprise. Beautifully told.
Oh! Oooh!! Oooohhhh!!! I can’t even form the words, Maria.
This is a warm, compassionate story of an intimate connection and a deep sense of loss. You tell it so beautifully. Finding out the old girl is a dog just went right through me! Dogs are all honesty and integrity so the emotion becomes even more authentic and acute. Great story! ~ Olivia
Very nice – i like the unexpected pov. It’s sweet and tender and totally believable- animals understand much more than we give them credit for.
Twist completely got me, too. Thought it was unusually monotone and defeatist for you, and then you recolored it with the definition on the narrator. This is a great example of good twists. It revives the whole thing. Poor girl.
Got me with the ending, too. Poor puppy. It’s got to be hard on dogs who lose their owners–something not often discussed. Good story!
Interesting take on the man-and-his-dog story. Sweet and sad. Nice to see you stretch. Peace…
Simply wonderful… It got me. And plus, I’m always a sucker for a great piece about a pooch. Again, good stuff.
I didn’t see that twist at all, good work and such a moving story.
Well, I didn’t see that coming! A wonderfully described and very touching story, made all the more poigniant for me by the locations you describe – ah, happy childhood memories. I really felt for your MC, having been through two family funerals in the past year.
Yup, add me to the suckered list! Very nicely done.
Bereavement from the point of view of a dog. There is no greater love. A dog widow with dignity enduring incredible loss. Thanks.
Me too, me too! Everything, me too!
How amazing was this…. just wonderful.
And the line: “better to wake up wondering where I am rather than where he is” is just PURE emotion and poetry. You had me sucked in AND got me with the twist.
Nicely done.
Jim
Wow Maria, you got me good too! I did not see that coming at all. This is so wonderfully written – just beautiful.
Of course, I thought it was a wife who mourned the loss of her love so the reveal did startle me. 🙂
Went to hug the dog in my family after reading this tender story!
Was gotten. Nice trick there girlie. O.o
Mazz! That is a genius twist. Love it, and thank yuh.
Aww, sweet doggie. I just love this story. Just beautiful. I wasn’t expecting the end either, but how lovely.
Perfect little piece.
You really had me.. I was getting all teary-eyed and feeling her heartache.
I still do.
~2
What can I say that hasn’t already been said?
Heartfelt and genuine. Fabulous work, as usual. Thank you!
You capture the very believable sense that our pets understand and grieve, I certainly believe they do. Typo alert ppg 3, 1st sentence should be advanced not advaned. great piece.
Very, very touching, with an unexpected surprise. I started to place this story in with one of the saddest situations–a long-term relationship ended by death. I guess, it still is.
Love the line, “better to wake up wondering where I am rather than where he is.”
A bit sweeter than your usual deliciously dark stories (although still centred around a death!) but just as enjoyable as ever. Reading the opening sentence I actually wondered if the deceased was a pet but realised I wrong when you introduced the brother. A fun, light read set in a great part of the world!
Throughout the entire story I assumed the point of view was from a grieving wife. When you unveiled the family dog at the end, somehow I felt it had more of an impact.
Excellent story, I enjoyed it very much.
Like everyone else this POV caught me by surprise, but so touching. I adore this. Thank you.
I did see the POV coming about halfway through but I loved it nonetheless. Wonderful. Now I have to stop crying at work before someone catches me.
Beautifully done – didn’t see that. Went back, re-read, and enjoyed the craft with which you put the story together.
A gentle air of sadness pervades this, excellently anchored by the title, “Bereft”.
Excellent.
Oh I did not see that coming. I was so struck by “I had to sleep in the guest bedroom last night – better to wake up wondering where I am rather than where he is” that it didn’t cross my mind the narrator could be a dog…The longing s/he felt was still palpable. A fabulous piece of writing.
And I loved the references to Whitby and Filey, scenes of my student life…
This is all kinds of clever goodness. Great emotion.
Hold on, I need to get a tissue. What a beautiful, clever and sad work this is. Just wonderfully written.
OMG – I was so sad and then you made me giggle. Brilliant!
Beautifully sad with a lovely twist.
Ah, you got me! Nicely played!
Sad, longing, warm, cozy… all kinds of emotions. Nice old doggy.
That was an incredible bit of writing and sleight of hand. I didn’t see the twist at the end until the very last moment…exactly when you planned for me to see it. Brilliant writing and execution, and a brilliant delay to the reveal.
Fantastic!
BEREFT was beguiling in emotion, connotative in title and oh the thoughts of “her mind” > “I think of days that will never be again; days on the beach at Filey, when I was still young enough to run into the water, evenings spent sitting on the sofa with the TV on, winter nights huddled around the gas fire after a stroll in the bracing wind. I remember his kind words, his smile, his gentle touch. I let the sweet sorrow wash over me, and the time passes.”
How lingering the soft reflections of loss. How lovely your twist was tossed. And Tom? Oh Ms Mazz – I LOVE TOM!
Brava, Absolutely*Kate
The final POV took me by complete surprise! I really enjoyed this, great flash, and really intimate and honest.
Awesome twist. I loved this line the best, though: ” better to wake up wondering where I am rather than where he is”
Very touching piece.
Aw, that actually almost made me cry. We often forget about how animals feel in the aftermath of a bereavement. Wonderful writing.
I decided to jump to the bottom and commment without reading everyone else’s.
I loved this. The tone, the pace, the POV, the twist — and I usually hate stories from an animal’s POV, but this one worked. Well-told.
Each week, I find I look forward to your stories. Sorry it took me so long to get here this time, but you are on my ‘must read’ list.
I’m not crying. There’s just… something in my eye….
Sometimes I wonder if my dog actually thinks thoughts like I do. She looks at me when I talk to her and recognizes so many words that I have to spell certain ones. You’ve convinced me that she doesn’t just view me as a larger animal but as a companion. Thanks for clearing that up! Sweet.
Really well done. I’m with the others that: “better to wake up wondering where I am rather than where he is” is the line that does it. Great twist at the end!
I was almost to the end when I caught on. This was beautifully written, cleverly executed. My heart hurts now.
I’m glad that Valerie said she saw the pov early on. I didn’t want to be the only one who said that they didn’t have a “gotcha” moment. I knew right away and it made the story even better for me. So sad to outlive your best friend, no matter how many legs they have.
This was lovely Maria, just lovely.
*happy sigh*
Karen :0)