Tick-tock

A little short story of how one person is handling their grief.

Now that I've gotten past the dangerous and curvy road of the holidays, I have come to understand that it is time to re-engage with life. I am so grateful that healing is coming, often from unexpected places and in unexpected ways.

When my love died I let the grandfather clock in the front hallway wind down. I took the weight off the cable and let it lie there, inert on the bottom of the clock, dead. The clock has symbolized for me the fact that my life stopped when my love died. I set the time at the time, 12:00, when I knew that my love had died, in our home.

People stopped asking me why the clock was stopped, and it just became a fixture in the house. In some ways I was a little embarrassed to explain, because it would embarrass people as well as it was eccentric and perhaps a bit melodramatic. But every morning, as I passed it in the front hall, I saw that dead brass weight, and it epitomized everything about myself that I felt inside. Dead - in limbo, suspended, waiting. And in some ways it was also comforting that I had this physical reminder, goading me to remember, confronting me and making sure that I would not forget this profound loss.

Sometimes I would pause, look at the clock and marvel that it had not struck the hour for one year. Then two years had suddenly passed. Where had the time gone, this thing that was no longer marking the time seemed to ask me.

I told myself that I would know when the time was right to re-start the clock, to hear the chimes again. So I hadn't done anything with the clock. At times the thought of re-starting the clock had loomed large in my mind, a big step to take, something that would require monumental change. Maybe I'd re-start it after I moved away, when my new life started somewhere else. But I always knew that I would know when the time was right, monumental or not, and at that time, I would not be afraid to act.

I found out on Saturday, after I had decided to decorate the house. What about this? I wondered if the only way to re-start my life was to choose to re-start it? Had I been making this too hard? Had I now crossed over some kind of mental barrier when I found that Christmas ornaments were not a source of pain but of happy remembrance? The comfort that comes from the pictures of our past.

I opened the glass door, hung the weight on the cable, and carefully wound the weight to the top. Then I gently pushed the pendulum to get it started. I moved the hands to match the time on my watch, and heard it start ticking. Tick-tock, tick-tock. I closed the door and looked at it, waiting for the hour to strike.

In the end, it was nothing monumental, no great life change, just a simple decision to start the clock, because I wanted to have it work for me, to start marking time again.

It felt right.

My love keeps on teaching me, and I keep on listening. I'll never stop, and now I'll keep that clock wound to remind me that my love is still there with me, listening and supporting.

Steady, steady...

Tick-tock.

Reviews

[Master Morality]

When you lose somone that close - it takes everything you have to keep going, to keep ticking as it were.
This is a good display of a strong will. Don't lose it - it's one of the most valuable things you'll ever have.

[John Fitzgerald]

Brenda you say it was nothing monumental but I have to disagree.
Your strength of spirit is inspiring!
Inconsolable is your grief; but your allegory of restarting your clock, restarting your life, and most of all
the lines "My love keeps on teaching me, and I keep on listening. I'll never stop, and now I'll keep that clock wound to remind me that my love is still there with me, listening and supporting" are a testament to the everlasting power and beauty of love. Bravo!

[None]

You really have a nice way of unfolding a story. I enjoyed this very much and thank you for letting the reader in on such a difficult subject to share. I was very pleased to find the clock was still working--at the perfect time! A tender write.

[Catrinka]

It makes so much sense that you let the clock wind down and now it's time to start it up again. Thanks for sharing your 'grief walk' with us - it gives me hope that when it strikes (and it will someday, grief hits everyone sooner or later) I will somehow survive it...this is a beautiful write.

[Rosalie Barrows]

Very well written. Can't wait to see more of your work

[.]

The only really important things you can do in life are the ones you have to do yourself. Like re-starting your life. I like the way you show that something so small as winding a clock can represent something so much bigger.

[Isaiah Jay]

Nice story.

[Sqeaver]

I love this story. Keep writing.