Death was supposed to be sad. This one was not, the funeral had been a quiet affair, just the family, but the reception after was a celebration of Daniel’s life. Despite the relief of Daniel’s passing last week after 3 years of fighting cancer, Anita hadn’t had to do a single thing. She didn’t cook, clean or need to make the arrangements. But now, she was left alone in the house, the kids having to go back to their own lives. Just Anita, and the vestiges of Daniel’s pain.
His mahogany desk was shining, habits die hard, not that she ever tried to stop. Every night for 58 years she had tidied his office, dusting desk and shelves, sweeping the floor, lastly pushing in his desk chair. Her routine would change for no one. Next to his books, Nietsche, Freud, Jung, Sophocles, among others, were his pill bottles, mostly empty. With the back of her hand she swiped them into the trash-bag, while her eyes rested fondly on the books.
The long hours he spent reading in his worn maroon leather chair; an inheritance from his uncle when Daniel was 25, just starting his practice. The chair was as far away as possibly from the desk, beside the one window in the room. He had always complained he felt like he was in a box, a prison where the window looked out to freedom. But he wouldn’t change for anything, it may have been the only window, but it had the best view in the house, unobstructed look at the ocean beyond. Years ago, his boat would have been in the bay, but it was in storage now.
Even though he hadn’t worked or read in his study much for the past few months, he still liked to sit there. Opposite the window was a print of Munch’s “The Scream,” Daniel would chuckle at it every time his eye caught on it, even if he didn’t do anything else when sitting a small grin played on his thin tired lips. She shut off the light, not allowing her eyes to linger on the typewriter. It too was from his Uncles study. None were allowed to touch it. Daniel alone painstakingly dusted, polished and oiled it. And now the dust was beginning to settle.
Vee1987's Brain Vomit 