Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Love



The little boy was separated from his family on the day his home caught fire. Maybe he was too young to remember how it happened or maybe he blocked a traumatic memory, nobody knows. First, it was him, his mum, dad, sister and two brothers and suddenly it was just him. He was taken to a boys home, which he remembered as a place where he was well treated. He went to the local school and to Sunday School, kindly church people would take him home for Sunday lunch. From here the story is sketchy. He stayed in the care of the church which had first taken him in, he moved from the first boys home to another and when he was no longer a ward of the state he moved to  church run accommodation for young men.
At some point he went into rehab and successfully became a recovering alcoholic. Soon after his recovery he met a woman who had also journeyed through rehab. There was a spark between the two, he proposed and she accepted. The minister who was to marry them said that either they were cheating on the survey or they were the most suitably matched couple he had ever met. Both in recovery, both with serious medical challenges, they had no money for a wedding but their church organised it all, from catering to flowers to music, everything was set and all they had to do was get there on the day.
The boy's wife became his fearsome protector and he became her encourager.
After a long time he tracked down his brothers and his dad. His dad was a stroke survivor and could no longer speak but he knew his son and was pleased to see him, tears rolled down the old man's face as he saw his sons reunited. The boy dared to hope that his brothers could explain what happened that day, the day of the fire. He thought they would tell him about their childhood without him, maybe they could explain how they had become separated, maybe they looked for him?
He invited them to his home, he asked his questions. They didn't answer. His wife thought they were playing statues. Single word answers were not enough. He sat on his bed and wept, she threw them out.
They loved each other and if life threatened to hurt, they had one another's back.
The boy died a few years ago. She still speaks of him in the present tense.

15 comments:

  1. Knowing that someone has your back is incredibly precious.
    Leaky eyes here. Thank you for sharing a little of their story.

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    1. I wish I knew more of this story, I think it would become more remarkable in detail.

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  2. Interesting story. From your response to the above comment, would appear to be real life one too. In which case, it is also a remarkable one.

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    1. It is a true story, I was acquainted with the man but didn't know anything about his story. His wife told me about it.

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    2. or I should say, his widow

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  3. So very sad, but at the same time, what a wonderful partner he found.

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    1. They both deserved something beautiful

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  4. Everybody gets old. A good tale and one which would make a good film.

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    1. he wasn't so old when he died, he grew up in the sixties. That's what I can't understand about the story, how did a child just disappear , it wasn't the dark ages?

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  5. A very touching tale indeed, thanks for sharing and warm greetings.

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  6. This is a mysterious story. Though told matter-of-factly it has a certain weight and intimacy - almost as if you were writing about your own.

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    1. There is so little detail, so many unanswered questions that there is almost nothing to write but the story needed to be told.

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  7. I feel for the guy and glad he had his wife to succor him. Ask me--most of the time family sucks.

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    1. The wife has never told me her story but I know that she suffered extreme trauma as a child. I don't think i have ever met two people who were so deserving of a little tenderness and kudos to them for being able to give it.
      Do you tell your story? would you?

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