No Tears

No Tears              1-11-2015

By John W. Vander Velden

He spends each day in the darkened room.  Greg doesn’t need the lamps to see for each curve – each wrinkle – every detail etched upon his heart.  The morning’s drive gives time to think – but these hours are for remembering.  Too young they were told over and again, yet they were not deterred.  The ladder at night’s mid and a race across the county line.  The waking of the Justice of the Peace, words and witnesses, papers signed.  Could that have been sixty-three years ago?  On these days – here as he sat in the shadows – he does not believe.  But grandchildren grown with children of their own speaks volumes.  And yet a lifetime shared – a world built – their world.  Together through the good times.  Together through the hard times.  Yes, always together. 

Greg sits and waits, knowing the facts.  Many times words told of little hope.  Many times told of slimmest of chance.  He will be here – when she awakes -- if she awakes.  He hopes his face the first she sees, and so he waits.

Others come, others go.  The time passes.  Observers might consider the vigil excessive, but Greg knows the truth.  Greg knows the journey shared.  He understands that these hours part of that journey.  Lilly would not demand.  Truth, if she knew, she would send Greg home.  But Greg wishes to share this part of the road, and so he waits in the dimness and the silence – waits for the ending of this ordeal, and to be part of the ending.

He arrives the moment visitors are permitted.  Greg remains until they shoo him out the door.  And each day he goes over the conversation shared.  The day Lilly begged, that no matter what there would be no tears.

(292 Words)