Later

by Linda Hudson Hoagland

“We need to talk.”

“No, we do not,” I whispered.

“Yes we do,” said a forceful voice.

“Not now, please not now.”

“When?” the forceful voice demanded.

“Later,” I pleaded.

“Soon, Ellen, soon.”

Then I woke up.

My day was not going to be good. I could tell that from the first moment I opened my eyes. The dream was going to stay with me and I knew it was true. I just wasn’t ready to face it, not ready for the final goodbye.

I dressed for work with gusto because of my need to get out of the house as soon as possible. Work was an escape, a hiding place, where I didn’t have to think about anything unless I chose to do so. I was usually busy enough to allow me to push away the sad thoughts and deep regrets.

I could feel the cloud of despair following me. I didn’t have to see it. I knew it was there.

People approached me with apprehension. I would get questioning glances. I’m sure I was not displaying the look of good cheer. I could feel the furrow digging deep into my brow and the surge of tears behind my eyelids.

“Ellen, are you okay?” asked Bonnie.

“Yes, fine, Bonnie, I just didn’t get much sleep last night. My mind was too active to let me rest. I guess that is the price I have to pay for being a writer.”

“Is there anything else bothering you? You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“No, there is nothing wrong, nothing new anyway, if you know what I mean,” I lied.

I watched her walk away and then I jumped up from my chair racing to the ladies room where I could lock the door and cry. I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak so I did all of my crying behind closed doors.

“Sonny, why can’t I get passed this?” I sobbed. “Why can’t I let you go?”

My husband had been dead for over two years and I was still crying. I wouldn’t read sad books or watch sad movies. I wouldn’t watch medical shows on television because I didn’t want the many hours I had spent at the hospital portrayed by people who didn’t have a clue about the loneliness and despair I face each hour. I couldn’t handle the outside world feeding my pain.

I couldn’t shake the cloud. It followed me home.

I had removed from my line of vision every reminder of Sonny. The pictures were all packed in a box. The closet had been emptied of his clothes and the rooms rearranged to help me focus on my future without Sonny.

I was greeted at the door by my cats who wanted my undivided attention I would give them and the food dish. I fulfilled my obligation of spooning out the food from the can.

“Okay, Guys,” I said sternly. “Behave yourselves tonight. I’m not in the mood to love any of you.”

I walked into the living room, reached for the remote that would bring sounds in the overwhelming and constant silence.

I sat and stared at the screen of the television totally unaware of what was taking place. It really didn’t matter, I know I’ve seen the program two or three times before. All I want is the noise, the sound of voices other than my own.

Why the cloud has followed me all day was something I could not tell you. It had to be an unconscious thought that formed the cloud. God help me, but I just couldn’t shake the sadness.

Depression was controlling me forcing me to think about doing things I would never do under normal circumstances.

I watched Sonny fight to live time after time when his heart decided to jump timing. I knew that his death could happen at any time but I wasn’t prepared at all when his life finally came to an end.

“Ellen, they said my blood is too thin because of the blood thinners I’m taking and they can’t do the colonoscopy today. They said I should have stopped taking the thinners more than three days ago. Maybe I should go on home and come back another time,” said Sonny.

“It’s up to you, Sonny, but you will have to start all over again drinking all of that stuff and going on the no-food diet. Do you want to do that?”

“No, not really, but they will keep me here over night, give me plasma to thicken my blood, and do the colonoscopy in the morning.”

“Is that what you want to do?” I asked with a hint of irritation.

“I don’t know, Ellen.”

“Make up your mind, Sonny. We will do whatever you want. I’ll call into work and tell them I will need another day off.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay and get this over with. That’s what you want me to do, isn’t it?”

“Once they get you settled in a room, I’ll go on home and be back here tomorrow as soon as the repairman gets there to check out the furnace. They told me I was first on the list so I might not be here when they take you to the operating room. Just give me a call and let me know when they come to take you. You have your cell phone, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’ll call tomorrow but you don’t have to hang around here tonight, Ellen. Go on home and as soon as I get in a room, I’ll call you and tell you where I am.”

“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, go on, Ellen,” he said with a fake smile.

I kissed him on the cheek.

That was the last time I saw my husband alive, that is to say speaking to me and aware of the world around him. He was kept alive by machines for a week after the procedure.

The guilt of not encouraging him to go home and forget about the procedure has filled my soul and I’m sure inspired that dark cloud to follow me, not to mention the onset of depression.

The specter that tells me “we need to talk” is Sonny.

I’m afraid of what he will say. I’m afraid that he will blame me. I’m so afraid that I caused his death by not taking him home with me when I left the hospital.

I finally went to sleep. I wanted to go to sleep. I didn’t want to feel depressed.

I envied Sonny’s peaceful slide into death. That’s how I want to go, but I don’t know how to do it without causing problems for my sons. Depression has done that to me, making me think about how much simpler life would be if I no longer had a life.

Just before my alarm was ready to ring I saw Sonny smile.

He wasn’t angry with me. The smile had changed to laughter with his blue eyes sparkling with glee. He was dressed in his cotton, flower-printed, Hawaiian-style, buttoned-up shirt hanging over well-worn blue jeans.

I awoke with a smile on my face knowing that Sonny doesn’t blame me, with the realization that the cloud is gone, and that Sonny is happy.