Through the Door

Sam sat at his table in the dark wearing his suit and tie. He hadn't bothered to change after the funeral. Although his family and friends had insisted that he accompany them anywhere but home he had refused. He had lost his wife, Elle, and had months leading up to her death to prepare for this exact moment. It didn't make it any easier. He could still smell her perfume as it lingered in the air and everywhere he looked, he could see signs of her recent presence. He sat in the dark bathing in what was left of her essence. The phone broke the silence, startling him from his revery.

"Hello, may I ask who is calling?" he said although he suspected he knew who it was.

"Hey, dad." His son, Ryan, said from the other end of the line. "I just wanted to invite you once again to come over and spend a few nights with us. I'm sure the house is not where you want to be.

"It's fine," Sam said to reassure his youngest son, "this is still my home, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

"Are you sure."

"Yes, Ryan. I'm certain. But I appreciate your concern."

"Alright dad, I'll talk to you tomorrow but if you need anything, please call."

"I will."

"Okay, dad. I love you."

"I know. I love you too and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He waited a moment for Ryan to hang up but when he didn't, Sam ended the call. He sighed and pushed himself away from the table. He walked down the hall undoing his tie as he walked. He entered his bedroom and navigated around the bed to the closet. He carefully hung the tie on the hanger which Elle had designated his tie caddy and smoothed out the wrinkles. He removed his suit jacket and draped it on the back of his wife's vanity chair. He removed his belt before taking off his pants. The pants he hung on the sturdy suit hanger before slipping the belt over the hook. He removed his white shirt and hung it over the pants before adding the suit jacket on top. He carefully smoothed out all the wrinkles because otherwise Elle would give him an earful when next he went to wear them. At least she would have.

He turned to stare at the bed where he and his wife had slept for the last thirty years. Rather than toss all the throw pillows on the floor, he had pushed them all to Elle's side of the bed. She had been the one to want all of them while he hadn't seen a use for them. He had even argued that they were a waste of space and to him they still were, but they were something his wife had adored. As much as he wanted to get rid of them, he didn't think he ever would. They were as much a part of her as every little accent that she had put on their home. He crawled into bed and just let the pillows weight down his shoulder. Sleep was slow in coming but soon he slipped into a sleepless state.

He awoke when he heard Elle call his name. He threw the blankets off and jumped to his feet. The room was dark, and the only light came from the red display on the alarm clock. He was disoriented and looked to the bed. There he could see an outline that looked to be his wife. She probably called his name in her sleep. He reached down to pat her leg and felt nothing but a pillow. That's when he remembered that she wasn't there. He flopped onto the edge of the bed and began to cry.

The next morning, he rose and dressed in his gardening attire. Since his retirement, he had tended his garden every day while the temperatures were moderate. Besides, today he didn't think he could eat anyway. He stepped outside and watered the roses. He weeded the vegetables and tended the melons. This year's crop would be a decent one. Even the cucumbers had grown well beyond any previous year's yield. What was he going to do with it all? Elle was the one that used to pickle and can all the extra. He had to push down the emotions that surged up within him as he thought of his wife. He wiped his tears along with his sweat and heard a car's engine approaching.