Sketches of Pain

    I looked at the sky and took a deep breath.  What was left of the grey day was fading into the early darkness of fall.  I could barely see my reflection in the driver’s side window of my car.  It was there, but it was a light sketch with no distinct details.

     “What’s up, Kyle?”  I said, my energy waning like the day itself.  “Marrianne’s been trying to reach out but we keep missing each other.”

     “I know.”  He said.  “She was trying to find out why you weren’t at the funeral.”

     “Funeral?!?”  I asked, completely perplexed.

     “We thought you were in hibernation.”

     “No. January.”  I slumped in the front seat and pushed deep into the headrest.  “What funeral?”

     “Trudy had a heart attack three weeks ago.”

     Everything stopped.  Talos had passed away years ago.  It had been a long messy battle with cancer.  As much as Marrianne loved Kyle, they had rushed the wedding in hopes they’d be married before he died.  Where I was a week late for the marriage, he passed away a month before.  He and Trudy had been married for 35 years.

     Talos never met Marrianne’s kids.  He never met her brother’s kids.  Her brother’s wife was four months pregnant when the world fell apart.  Since they had nothing Trudy gave them everything they needed to get started.

     She outlived Talos by eleven years.  She never remarried.  Her time was taken up by volunteering, light travel, an occasional ‘friend’, but mainly her grandkids.  She maintained the house so her kids could always come back to their roots when they needed to reset their lives.

     “Shit, man.  I’m sorry.  How are you guys?  How are the kids?”

     Silence.  A small voice in the background asked when Mommy was coming back.

     “I’ll tell her you called.”

     “Kyle.”  I heard the little voice in the background ask for Mommy again.

     “If she wants to call you back she will.”

     “Kyle?!?”

     “I’ve gotta feed my kids dinner.  If she wants to talk, she’ll call.”

     “Kyle, she did call that’s why I’m...”. The phone beeped off.

     I looked up through the sunroof.  Darkness had fallen.  There was no reflection, no details, not even a light sketch.