The old man strode confidently through the park, walking down the gravel path, letting the path take him. A large golden retriever ran ahead of him, darting into the trees before disappearing from sight. A jogger ran down the path past him, headphones over his ears, his iPod clasped to his arm. He had a leash in his hand, which the old man assumed meant that he was the dog’s owner.
The old man continued along, enjoying the beauty and extravagance of nature. The trees, the shrubs, the birds chirping, the sunshine casting thin lines on the ground through gaps between the large evergreen trees.
It was a peaceful Sunday morning. Perfect for a stroll. It was a perfect morning. There was a calm about it, as if everyone was relaxed.
If only he could enjoy it the same way as everyone else. He knew he couldn’t. He had the funeral to attend to in two hours. His wife Mary of forty-three years had passed away six days ago.
The thought made him cringe, his throat constricted, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He became nauseous, his breakfast slowly making its way back up his throat. He suddenly felt everything collapsing. He grabbed a tree trunk for support and after a minute the pain and nausea dissipated, and he returned to a level of normalcy.
Having his wife pass away had hit him like a boulder. He had felt like he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. He had felt frozen, as if he couldn’t move. She simply failed to wake up one morning, the paramedics whom had arrived spoke to him sympathetically. They told him she had passed away and that there was nothing any of them could have done. She had passed peacefully.
Now every time he thought of his wife, everything came flowing back. All his memories, all the moments he had spent with her, the three children they had shared. All the memories came up at once, overwhelming him. It was as if he had shaken a can of cola and then opened it to have all the contents explode out. That was how he felt. Overwhelmed. With it all.
He continued through the forest, shrugging away the thoughts, if only for a minute. He was reaching the end of the forest now. He could see the opening of the forest leading to a large grass park. Ahead he could see families having picnics, children running around playfully playing a game of soccer. The golden retriever had made its way to the park and was chasing after a frisbee.
He exited out the forest and into the large park where he spotted a small wooden bench. It was vacant. He quickly made his way there and before sitting down, he glanced at the backrest noticing the plate carving that said who it was dedicated to.
“Dedicated to Mary Thomas. Dec 21 1944 – July 10 2017.”
The old man stepped back momentarily, surprised by the contents of the plate. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the dedication plate again. That had to be wrong. How could this bench have been dedicated to his wife? It wasn’t possible.
Confused he looked again, but it definitely appeared to be the case. It clearly said Mary Thomas. Baffled, the old man looked around him. Maybe it was a joke, maybe someone had put it there on purpose. One of his children possibly. Or maybe someone had done so on purpose, to commemorate her life and he just hadn’t been informed about it. Either way it was quite the shock.
Noticing nothing out of the ordinary he shrugged and sat down on the bench trying to figure out how or from who this bench had come from.
Then suddenly, he felt the bench shake slightly before making a rumbling sound. The bench worked itself out of the ground, the legs of the bench pulling away from the dirt as if it was alive. His world began to shift, to turn. The bench convoluted in on itself and shook roughly before turning perpendicularly onto its back.
The old man was now flipped upside down, his body still resting on the bench. The old man closed his eyes as a vicious wind howled and flew at his face, gusting and throwing dust and particles at him. After the gust abated, he looked up to see that he was being dragged down an ether, his body stuck to the bench as he was thrown down through the air. He felt like he was falling through the air. All he saw was a radiant purple colour flashing around him as the bench carried him into the abyss.
His mouth clenched as he was dragged viciously through the purple ether, the bench being dragged quickly with the old man still seated on it. He felt like he was on a roller coaster, his arms and legs stuck to the bench as he continued to fall.
Then with a thud it all ceased and he ended up back at the park on the same bench. Now the park was quiet. There wasn’t a person or animal in sight. The area looked slightly different, the trees were smaller, there were more shrubs and the grass was higher and untrimmed. He scanned around him. What was going on here? Why was he here? Was he in the same park or a different one entirely?
He cocked his head to the left and he saw something. Suddenly it all came back to him. He was at the same park but forty-five years prior. He saw himself on the grass, his full head of hair, his younger complexion, his wife seated next to him holding his hand. He watched as his former self and his wife walked away, continuing to hold hands. The old man saw himself say something to her, saw her giggle, her cheeks reddening.
It all came back to the old man now. It was the day he proposed. And as if right on cue, his younger self got on one knee and proposed. He saw his wife put her hand to her mouth in shock.
Then everything flew out of focus, blurring away quickly. The old man held out his hand as if to grasp onto the memory for a little longer, but it quickly dissipated to be replaced by the purple ether and he was dragged back downwards.
He was being dragged through the ether, falling again, his body disappearing into the void, being dragged through. His body shook and shuddered in cohesion with the bench. Finally, it ceased and he was dropped to the bench again.
He was returned to the same park, this time the trees were larger and more obtrusive, the grass taken care of and cut, the shrubs hacked away. It more resembled the park he had been sitting in today, yet something about it was different.
He looked ahead and saw a young family having a picnic, enjoying each other’s company. They looked oddly familiar.
Then it hit him. It was himself. His former self at a slightly older age than the previous memory, his wife, his three children all of varying ages. They seemed happy, enjoying the moment. He watched his wife smile. He watched his kids get up off the grass and hurry into the nearby trees to play.
The old man watched the scene with nostalgia. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek. It felt like it had been just yesterday, but of course it had been nearly thirty years since that day. He watched the moment with interest, remembering it all, having it all come back to him.
Now, however, his wife was dead and his eldest son no longer spoke to him. It was strange how life shifted and changed so drastically, how little things could be seen as so significant, how the memories all blurred together. He was grateful to be able to be able to experience this again, even if from just a distance.
Suddenly, the moment began to blur and shift away again, his family slowly dissipating.
He grabbed out to try and hang on to the moment, grasp on to it for as long as it, but it was no use. He felt a little bit of himself dying. But it did no good. The moment was over, gone. He was dragged back through the ether, the air blasting behind him, dragging him down, down, down, into the abyss, away from the memories, into something completely different.
Finally he was dragged back to the park. Now, he was back in the present form. The scene was exactly the same as it had been prior to him having sat down on the bench. He watched the golden retriever jump up and grab the frisbee with its mouth, the children playing soccer, one of the kids cheering after scoring a goal. The old man felt his face, noticing the wrinkles and bags on his face. He was definitely back in the present.
Suddenly, his day became clear to him. He knew he had the funeral to attend, but now he realized that instead of being miserable and sad at having lost his wife, he should enjoy the memories he had with her, the moments they shared. That was what a funeral was after all. A time for everyone to remember the good times.
He thought back to the second flashback, the second past memory he had been dragged to on the bench, the memories of his children playing. It made him realize something. His children were a part of his life, a part of him, a part of his family.
Quickly, he removed his cell phone from his pocket, fumbling through the buttons and then opened up his contacts to Jake, his eldest son.
He hesitated briefly, then clicked call. The phone rang and after three rings Jake answered.
“Dad?” he asked surprised.
“Jake… Hi.”
“Is everything alright?”
The old man hesitated. Was everything alright? He wasn’t sure.
“Yes I’m fine… Listen, son.. I’m at the park.”
There was a long pause as his son said nothing for the longest time, as if contemplating what that meant, then finally he responded.
“I’m on my way.”
