Love Even After Death

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  No Houses


An elderly woman finds her lost love.

Submitted: November 04, 2017

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Submitted: November 04, 2017

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Margaret is a nice old woman. She does not sit on her porch in a rocking chair yelling at teenagers that are riding skateboards outside of her house. She spends her days inside watching television shows on her small box television and knitting. You can give her nothing but a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn and she is occupied for the entire day. Margaret knits everything from beautiful sweaters to wear when it is chilly, hats, socks to keep her feet nice and toasty, and multicolored scarves. She loves to knit because knitting is the one thing that keeps her distracted from the grief that her husband’s passing caused her. Margaret’s husband, Henry left this world in the 1970s. He was drafted into the army to fight in the Vietnam War and he never came back from the war. She was in love with him, and she still is. When she heard the news of her husband’s demise, she was distraught, and she sunk into depression like a rock submerges in water. That was forty years ago and she still has not moved on from her husband’s decease.
Her alarm clock goes off playing country music. She lies in bed feeling too tired to move, which is normal for most people above the age of sixty-five. “I really need to finish that sweater,” She said aloud to nobody. Margaret got off of the bed and shuffled into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Russian tea has always been her favorite variant; the taste of citrus in the beverage is what she adores most about it. She finished making her tea and went to go sit in her favorite recliner; her husband’s old recliner. She placed the cup on the side table, picked up her knitting needles, and began to work on knitting a red sweater. When she finished her tea, she took the cup into the kitchen and placed it into the sink. Margaret went back into the living room to find the ball of yarn on the other side of the living room. “That is quite odd,” She thought to herself. She didn’t think too much about it, picked up the ball of yarn, and took it back to the recliner to continue knitting.
Margaret heard someone knocking on her front door. Margaret responded to whoever was at her doorstep, “Hold on, I’ll be there in just a second.” Margaret placed her knitting materials on the recliner and doddered over to the door. She opened the door to find a teenage boy on her porch. The neighborhood kids often come to Margaret for advice. “May I come in?” He asked. “Of course deary, let me get you a cup of tea,” She replied as she went into the kitchen to begin preparing the boy a cup of tea. She delivered the teacup to the boy and he took a seat on the leather sofa. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?” She politely asked the boy. “I came to you first because I see you as wise and I look up to you,” He responded. Margaret was flattered by that, and he continued, “There’s this girl that I like a lot and she doesn’t know that I like her. Do you know anything I can do to get her attention, Miss Johnson?” Margaret responded to the boy with a truthful answer, “Just be yourself deary. Being yourself is the best thing you can do to get a girl’s attention. Do not put on a facade to try to win a girl’s heart.” “What if she doesn’t like me when I am myself?” The boy asked. “If she doesn’t like you for you are, she doesn’t deserve you,” Margaret responded. “Thanks, Miss Johnson,” The boy said while hugging Margaret. “Have a good rest of your day, Miss Johnson.” “You too dear.”
As she was working on her sweater, she heard a vinyl record began to play. “Love me tender, Love me sweet, Never let me go. You have made my life complete, and I love you so,” It was Love Me Tender by Elvis Presley. Margaret’s husband used to sing this song to her every single day. She felt tears building up in her eyes. Margaret began to sing along with the record. “Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfilled. For my darlin' I love you, and I always will.” Vivid memories of the time she spent with her husband began to flood Margaret’s mind and she could not stop thinking about him for the duration of the song.

She walked over to the record player and saw the Elvis vinyl in the player. “I don’t remember this being in here,” she said. She looked on the table to see the sleeve for the record beside the player. Margaret’s bright blue eyes darted around to see who or what might have done this, but she detected nothing. She places the record back into the sleeve. After placing the record back into the sleeve, she looked at her wall clock to discover that it was 9 PM. “It sure is late. I need to head off to bed,” She said out loud. Margaret climbed into bed to fall into the arms of Morpheus and began to hold her pillow tighter than a python holds its prey. Margaret wished that her husband was falling asleep next to her. She kissed the pillow and fell into slumber.

Margaret heard the iconic beeping of her alarm clock and the music that followed it. The morning sun’s light shines through her pink curtains. She was laying in bed listening to the music when she thought she had heard her husband’s voice through the audio. She assumed that it was just a hallucination and continued listening, too tired to get out of bed. She laid in bed for about an hour before she left the safety of the mattress to make breakfast for herself. She dawdled out of her bedroom and into the living room when she found yarn in the shape of a heart on the carpet. It didn’t look like it happened naturally. “A heart? How lovely,” She said while her cheeks were red as strawberries. “Who could have done this? I don’t recall anyone else in the house but me,” She pondered. That’s when she heard her telephone begin to ring.

She shuffled to the phone to look at the caller identification. She saw that it was an unknown caller, and she reluctantly picked up the phone and placed it to her ear. She heard loud background noise that sounded like wind. “Hello?” She asked the unknown caller. She heard a voice that sounded masculine in tone. “Who are you?” She asked the person on the other end. “I’m He-” The call ended while he was saying his name. She began to think of names that started with He, and then the name Henry came up in her mind. Her eyes widened when she pondered if it could be her husband on the other end. “He’s dead so it can’t be-” She thought before having a revelation.The physical body will decompose and cease to exist, but the soul is immortal. It is a possibility that Henry’s soul is attempting to contact Margaret from the land of the dead, or maybe even from a closer location than Margaret thinks.

The heart of yarn on her living room floor had to have been made using artificial means. “Is my home haunted?” She pondered to herself. Margaret believed in supernatural forces that can manipulate physical matter. It was still a possibility. If she was in the presence of a spirit, she hoped that it was benevolent. She decided to keep the heart of yarn on the carpet because it reminded her of Henry. She grabbed her ball of yarn, and her trusty knitting needles and began to knit a red and blue striped scarf for her to wear. It was the winter season, and this year’s winter has been especially frigid. Margaret walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner for tomorrow. The family was coming over to her house for Christmas Eve like they do every year, and she had to begin preparing it the night before Christmas Eve. She was preparing a succulent turkey with various sides ranging from yam to asparagus wrapped in a blanket of bacon. She was also preparing her signature holiday cookies and custard pie. She placed the turkey into the oven and went to her bed to get some quality rest.

She woke up before the crack of dawn. Margaret usually never wakes up when you can still see Luna and the stars in the inky black night sky. She looked at her clock to see that it was three in the morning. Margaret wanted to go back to bed, but she wasn’t tired at all, which was quite bizarre. She stumbled out of her bedroom, and went into the living room to find the lights on and yarn on the floor that spelled out the phrase “I love you, Rita.” One person always called her Rita; that person was her husband, Henry. Her eyes widened when she made the realization that it was really was Henry attempting to communicate with her. “I love you too,” She replied, hoping that he heard her.

She still remembers his appearance vividly. He was a tall man with a slightly dark complexion. Fluffy black hair coated the top of his head and a bushy mustache covered his upper part of his amazing pink lips. His dark brown eyes and his cheery smile with a corn cob pipe in his teeth made her knees weak. She couldn’t stop thinking about him until she heard her alarm clock go off in the other room. She snapped out of her trance and saw the early morning’s light seeping through her curtains. She walked over to her window and saw an array of reds, yellows, and purples presented to her blue eyes. The sunrise was beautiful that morning. Margaret sat on a chair on her front deck and admired this awe-inspiring sight in the ether.

Margaret was enjoying an exemplary cup of tea when she heard someone at the door. She looked at the clock and saw that it was two in the afternoon. She shuffled to the front door to see her daughter Jessica, Margaret’s son-in-law Michael, and her two grandchildren. They had brought their dog, Spot. “Hi mom,” Jessica said while giving her a hug. “Hello dear. I’m so happy to see you all,” She said to the group. “Nana!” The children exclaimed. The two young ones went to go give Margaret a hug. “Sorry that we brought Spot. We couldn’t find a sitter in time, so we had to bring him. I hope that’s fine,” Michael said to Margaret. “That’s fine,” She replied. “The food smells delicious, Mom. What are you making?” Jessica questioned her mother. “Turkey,” Margaret said with a smile. “Oh! I need to go check on the food!” She said as she quickly walked over to the kitchen and checked on the food. “It will be a while until it’s done. Just get comfortable. We should wait on the others, anyway,” She told the group. Over the next two hours, more and more family members began to pour into the house. Everyone came wearing a festive sweater, even Spot was wearing a small Santa hat.

Margaret came out of the kitchen in her pink Christmas sweater adorned with festive lights. She hit a spoon against a mug and the attention of the crowd was directed to her. “I’m glad you all could come to the Christmas Eve party. After we dine, we will get to Secret Santa, and then you can stay if you can like. There is eggnog on the counter and another assortment of non-alcoholic drinks for the little ones. The food’s ready, so let’s eat,” She said with a smile on her face. Most of the adults picked up a glass of nog, and the children stuck with water and soft drinks. As Margaret was serving everyone at the table, she looked over to see that she reserved a place for Henry next to her again.

After everyone at the table finished eating dinner, the adults went into the living room to play Secret Santa while the children went to socialize amongst themselves on the other side of the room. There was an assortment of wrapped presents under the artificial tree, each with a different person’s name on the gift wrap. The group was having a fun time with Secret Santa until they heard Spot’s growling. The canine was standing still, shaking in fear and growling at what appeared to be nothing at all. The fear in his black beady eyes was immense. The group looked to wear Spot was and saw nothing. “I think I need to take Spot into the other room,” Michael said to the group. Michael took his hound into another room, and Michael closed the door as he walked out. After that incident, they continued Secret Santa and they generally enjoyed it from there.

After everyone left, Margaret had a mess to clean indeed. There was gift wrap scattering the floor, and china on the dinner table. After cleaning like a germaphobe for what felt like an eternity, she laid back on her recliner and began to watch an average Christmas special on her television. As she watched the screen, she saw the ball of yarn moving out of the corner of her eye. She slowly turned her head to face the ball of yarn as yarn strings began to be released from the condensed ball. It spelled out the words “I love you so much, Rita.” “I love you too darling,” Margaret replied. “Do you want to see me?” The yarn spelled that out. Margaret’s eyes widened when she read that line. “Yes! Yes! I would do anything to see you again, my love!” She exclaimed in joy. She saw the yarn drop to the ground. She waited, and waited, and waited. She decided to go to bed, as she was tired. As she was in her bed, she hoped she would see him when she awoke in the morning.

She awoke feeling very well rested, which was abnormal for Margaret. She immediately got up and shuffled quickly to the living room, hoping to see her husband’s specter, but she found nothing at all. “Henry?” She asked, trying to make her husband appear before her. She called Henry’s name a couple more times, but to no avail. She sat on her couch and began to sob. Her crying ceased when she felt a force in the vicinity. Margaret felt like someone or something was around her. “Henry?” She asked once more, being sure that he was near. She heard the iconic ring of her telephone, and she walked over to it slowly. There was no caller ID visible, so she assumed that it was Henry. The placed the phone over her ear, and began to speak, “Hello?” She heard her voice echo on the other end. The person that was calling her was in the room with her. She looked around to see no one, and then the call ended. She was going to walk into the kitchen to prepare breakfast until she felt something cold touch her shoulder.

She swiftly twirled around to see something that made her grin from ear to ear. It was an apparition, but not just any apparition; it was the specter of her husband, Henry. His ghost looked just like Henry when he was a part of the living world of Terra,  except all of the colors on his person were replaced with different shades of the color blue, his entire person was translucent, and he was wearing an army uniform from the Vietnam War. That toothy smile of his made hearts appear in her eyes and her knees felt weak. She saw his phantom grab the ball of yarn and spell out a phrase with the strings of yarn. He spelled out “This is your Christmas present.”

She saw Henry reach for a pair of scissors on the table and began to mold the yarn into the shape of a rose. He cut the yarn and delivered the rose of yarn to his wife. He placed the rose-shaped yarn into her wife’s pale hand and stayed where he was, looking into her blue eyes and smiling. She was so hypnotized by his spirit, and she didn’t want to look away. “I missed you so much, darling,” she said. He spelled out with the yarn “I missed you too, honey.” By this point, her face was a cherry. This all felt like a lucid dream to her. Even if it was his ghost, it was still Henry, and she was happy that she gets to see Henry again. She could see the shade of blue on his spectral cheeks begin to darken, his eyelids lower slightly, and his toothy smile reminiscent of a Cheshire cat begin to grow. She saw him begin to spell something with the yarn. “Do you remember when I said we would be together for eternity?” He spelled out with the yarn. Margaret nodded her head. “The soul never dies. I kicked the bucket years ago, but my ghost has eyes locked with yours right now. We really can be together for all of eternity, but eternity wouldn’t be enough time to spend with you, my love,” He spelled out the phrase with the string of yarn.

The smile on her face grew even more when she finished reading that. “Can I touch you?” She asked Henry’s phantom. “Try it,” he spelled with the yarn. She placed her hand into his spectral hand and he knelt down and kissed the back of her hand. He looked into her baby blue eyes again and began to spell out a phrase. “You’re just as beautiful as you were forty years ago, baby.” She grabbed the collars of his translucent military coat, pulled him close, and kissed him on those transcendental lips of his. It had been so long since Margaret had felt his lips pressed against his, and feeling the kiss made her fill with ecstasy. The phantom’s tongue locked in a dance with her tongue should have felt like a frigid waltz, but it felt like a sultry tango instead. The intimacy made her feel warmer than any mug of hot cocoa could in the freezing winter. Her heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She never wanted this romantic moment to cease. After what felt like an eternity for Margaret, they pulled away and they began to look into each other’s eyes. “Please don’t leave me alone again. I missed you so much.” Margaret told Henry’s specter. She saw Henry begin to spell a phrase with the yarn once more. “Whoever said I had to leave?” Margaret felt a stronger wave of euphoria wash over her. He locked his ghostly hand with hers, and they walked to the couch. She laid on his lap and looked up at him. “Do you promise that you’ll love me forever, Henry?” She questioned his phantom. He spelled out a sentence with the yarn. “Forever doesn’t give me enough time to love you. I love you so much, Rita. My love for you is greater in size than the entire universe.” He then planted a kiss onto her forehead. “You make my heart so happy, Henry. I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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