The Incomplete Life Made Whole


I do not have a home: I have a place I sleep in adorned with photographs of my wife who died five years ago, before this place became a museum owned by fading memories. I will love her forever, we all know that, but her words, spoken to me on her deathbed stay with me now, “Do not live alone: “I thought that was impossible!

She was the most precious being I could imagine, met at university, who took a gauche boy and made a man of him, stuck by him while he found himself and walked with him up the path of life. Each breath we take is a miracle and every step I took with her was touched by wonder and I thought she would be with me always: brown of hair, then grey, slim then slightly rounded, patient always and with a wisdom which granted me the sense of being home.

Even at her death she worried about me because she considered me hopeless in all practical matters and so I am. Fussing over her was my forte and loving her, my skill; and without her I feel robbed of purpose and of cause.

I have a job, managing a credit control department whose work people tell me is important to the company, and so it might be. I try to do a thorough job of it but what matters to me, what I care about, is the people in it and the happiness in their lives.

I have seen a loved one die, a woman whose life was irreplaceable to me leave this earth, and as she left it she did not tell me, “I was the best clerical worker at A.J Lamingman and Sons.” Who cares if she was or was not, though I think she was!

To me she was that portal to another place, another dimension where we are all children, awed in the face of the life we are free to dream about;  filled with the challenge of living it, and the majesty which greets us at each mountain-top, or in the faces of people who walk the path of consciousness expressing courage and decency.

“Do not live alone” where your last words, and I hear them every day, and now they sound louder and louder still, because some lady joined my department who looks nothing like you, but in her is your gentleness. I told myself to be professional, held myself together as best I could, but it was beautiful to see that quality, but in another life, so one day I said “Lunch with you would be nice,” and she said “And with you.”

Now we are to meet this Saturday and my thoughts turn to you, my special darling, who made everything precious in my life, and I can almost sense you smiling at me and blessing the path I tread, and telling me once again, “Do not walk alone.”

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About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
This entry was posted in creative writing, Fiction, Love, Peter Wells, Romance, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

51 Responses to The Incomplete Life Made Whole

  1. Lucy Brazier says:

    Stunningly beautiful.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Sadah says:

    Very well written.
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  3. renxkyoko says:

    Beautiful, as always.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. mikesteeden says:

    A tale that affords a glimmer of hope. A most worthy tale. ‘…before this place became a museum owned by fading memories.’ paints a picture all of its own. Another gem, Peter

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Reena Saxena says:

    Exquisitely carved emotions in the piece!

    Like

  6. ksbeth says:

    beautifully told, as always, peter. what a gift her legacy was to him –

    Like

  7. Al says:

    Incredible story, Peter, just incredible. You made us hurt for this character and though I suspect he is fictitious in this telling, he (or she) actually lives among us in great number. Again, beautifully done.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Beautifully written Peter. As always, you can make the characters sound real as though the thoughts are from YOUR heart. We should all be so lucky to have that one person who loves us that way… ❤

    Like

  9. Arbie says:

    Oh gosh heart strings were pulled. “To me she was that portal to another place” really beautiful. You say a lot in only few words. So good.

    Like

  10. George F. says:

    This is very poetic and beautiful

    Like

  11. cathytea says:

    This was breathtaking . Thank you .

    Like

  12. Wonderful, as is the possibility of loving again. It will never be the same as before, as we are not the same person we were when we met our departed loved ones. Love never dies, it enhances and extends. Embrace and enjoy.

    Like

  13. This is a beautiful story, Peter. I love the sadness that you have conveyed in this tale whilst retaining an aura of the dignified. Sad to say but I feel that there is only one way for your lead to find peace.

    Like

  14. Bella Lane says:

    This was absolutely beautiful, thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Sue Vincent says:

    Very beautiful, Peter…an that paragraph…”To me she was that portal to another place, another dimension where we are all children, awed in the face of the life ….” is stunning.

    Like

  16. I think the permission is everything, but then so is the possibility 🙂

    Like

  17. This is the most beautiful thing I read in such a long time. Really got me in the feels. Good luck with your new adventure!

    Liked by 1 person

  18. Cathy says:

    That’s so lovely, your writing is beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  19. Candy Lebby says:

    Beautifully told, took me through the emotions with this character. Just wonderful.

    Like

  20. ASH says:

    You ring all the emotional bells

    Like

  21. franklparker says:

    I agree with everyone else that has commented. A touching piece of writing. Thanks for liking my exploration of the relationship between two character from my novel Transgression.

    Like

  22. I like the line about not having a home just a place he slept in. That gives a sense of detachment from his past explained by the loss of his life. It is a great hook, drawing the reader into a well crafted story.

    Liked by 2 people

  23. nelle says:

    *sniff*

    Love can grow. It need not be a zero sum thing. Well done.

    Like

  24. mistermuse says:

    I was about to comment “What a lucky man you were….and are.” And then I saw that this was posted in “Fiction”….and now I think what a lucky man you are to have the whatever-within to make such a story so believable, so seemingly real. And I reflected on a world in danger of becoming bereft of men and women who can still dream, and….

    Liked by 1 person

  25. anjana says:

    Painfully beautiful.

    Like

  26. I think the greatest gift of love is to ensure the one that was loved has the strength to move on – not to compare or replace – but to find another missing piece.

    Like

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