Jonathan Dodd shares his annual Christmas story. Make sure you have a handkerchief at the ready. Ed
The day was cold and damp. Low rain clouds scraped the tops of the bare branches, and an undisciplined wind chased fallen leaves at random round his feet, leaving them in untidy heaps here and there, and then rearranging them on a whim. Over and over again.
The large untidy man stood and watched the leaves and the clouds. His collar was up and the wind whipped up what hair he had left on his head, but he paid it no attention. It was a quiet and dull weekend day in the cemetery; at this time of the year people would be mostly out shopping with their children, in the noise and lights and bustle.
He didn’t want to be here, but he wanted even less to be amongst all those people, so he stood, and didn’t think very much. He was looking at a plain grave, with an ordinary stone. It looked uncared-for, even though the stone was still smooth. The grass was scraggy and that wind kept worrying those leaves across it, like an out-of-control sheepdog. He resented the leaves, and the weather, and he resented that grave.
–///–
Mostly nowadays his mind kept going back to the not-so-distant past. He knew he was grieving for Jane, and their life, and the comfort and company she no longer gave him, and he regretted not being more involved, not enjoying it enough, and appreciating it enough.
He didn’t want to be responsible for a piece of stone and a small plot of ground. He wanted her back, and he didn’t know how to do the grieving thing.
During the week he went to work. People had stopped asking him how he was, thank goodness. He had never worked out what he was supposed to say anyway. Once or twice he had started to tell people about what it was really like, but he saw the look on their faces and realized they needed reassuring that it was all right, that he was all right.
So that was what he came to say, when they asked. Although it wasn’t. And neither was he.
–///–
At work he was at least occupied, but he dreaded being at home. He didn’t want to change anything, and he wanted to scrub it all away. He couldn’t get rid of stuff, but it all sat there and stared at him. He knew he was just going through the motions, doing everything he always had done, but not so well, because his heart wasn’t in it.
He felt that his heart had died when Jane did. So he ate, and he washed his clothes, and he tidied the place, and it felt like he was in some sort of windowless prison, just keeping busy. Because. Because.
And some weekends he found himself walking, his footsteps taking him to the cemetery. He hadn’t come during the summer, because of the sunshine and the families. He preferred it at this time of year, when there were few people about and the weather matched his feelings about how things were.
–///–
After a while he turned and sat on a bench. He saw a woman walking towards him down the path, with a dog. As she approached she smiled at him, and he attempted to rearrange his face into something resembling an answering smile. He felt bad about it, because he didn’t feel that he should smile, and he thought he had made a mess of it. The woman slowed.
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
“No. Please do.” He waved his hand slightly, as if to deny ownership. She sat at the other end and the dog positioned itself between them, sitting up, staring at him, with its bright eyes and its ridiculously long tongue hanging out. He felt his eyes drawn to it.
“Shall I move him? Not everybody likes dogs.”
“No. that’s all right. I don’t mind.” He knew the dog was watching him, it was very odd. He felt it wanted something. He reached out his hand, the dog moved its head, and he was stroking it. His hands were shocked at the smooth silkiness of its coat, and the sense of vibrant life pulsating under its skin. He felt, somehow, that it was passing some of that life energy through to him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He felt his eyes begin to prickle.
“He likes you,” she said. “He doesn’t usually like people stroking him.”
He took a couple of breaths. “I don’t know much about dogs. I never had one.” He turned to her, feeling that he was being rude. He hadn’t looked at her at all. She looked back. She was ordinary, but in a good way, like she knew who she was and was comfortable with that. There was an air of confidence about her, and her gaze reflected that. He thought that she didn’t look like the sort of person who would ask him how he was, and felt grateful for that.
“I’ve seen you here before. When you’ve got a dog you walk them through places like this, but you sometimes forget why they’re here. I feel like I’m intruding.” She started to rise, but he waved her down.
“No. Please. It’s fine. I’m not so … ” He couldn’t finish, and rose and hurried away, embarrassed at his tears.
–///–
Over the months they met occasionally in the same place. He found himself looking forward to stroking the dog, who was called Plush. “Plush?” “You’ve stroked him. It’s obvious!” She was called Helen, and he found himself able to talk to her, because she was able to listen. And she had interesting things to say.
He was getting on well with Plush. One day she looked at them both, enjoying each other’s company. “Why don’t you get a dog?” she said. He was astonished. It was an idea he had never even considered. This obviously showed in his face, because he saw them both looking at him, and laughing.
He felt a strange kind of thrill pass through him. “How do you do that? I have no idea.”
I got Plush from the dog rescue place. You could go there and talk to them.”
“I don’t think I could do that.”
“I could come with you, if you like.” There was one of those silences then.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
So that’s what happened. They went to the dog rescue place, and just before Christmas he took his own dog home. She was an adult of very mixed parentage, but she was calm and contented and very good company. For no good reason he decided to call her Grace. Most importantly, she got along very well with Plush.
–///–
That Christmas morning he took Grace to visit Jane’s grave, and he found himself talking to Jane for the first time, inside his head. He didn’t want anyone thinking he was a loony, and that idea made him smile. He found that Jane was talking back, and she thought it was all right. And she thought he was all right.
He looked down at Grace, and he could tell she thought he was all right too.
Then he saw Helen and Plush coming, and he knew he was all right.
