This is a fairly lengthy story, so if you prefer a quick read, this won't satisfy you. There isn't a tremendous amount of sex either, as I tried to focus more on the characters than just the sex. But there is sex, don't worry.
Thanks for reading.
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"Thank you for coming, Barry."
Jake Wallan stood at the front door of The Pavilion, a large, relaxed restaurant that had been the venue for his father's wake. He was shaking hands with old Barry Fields, the man who until last year had been living next door to his parents. It was the end of the day, and most of the guests had already gone. But Barry was a friend as well as a neighbour, and had stayed on to see that Jake and his mother Liz were managing on this difficult day.
"Don't mention it son," Barry replied, shaking his hand. "Our families have been solid for many years. I've been honoured to help you celebrate your dad's life today."
Barry opened the door with his free hand and released his grip on Jake's. Stepping out into the cool evening he said, "Now you let me know if you or your Mom need anything."
"Thanks," Jake said with a brief nod.
The day had gone well, despite the sadness and grief.
They had known his father's time was coming to an end. He'd been diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of bowel cancer 18 months ago and had begun chemotherapy immediately. At 57 years old, Terry Wallan was a fit and robust director in an engineering company. He was the sort of man who never got sick in his entire life. So to say the diagnosis came as a shock was an understatement. As was the toll the cancer and the treatments took on his body. But his spirit was never beaten. He faced his death as he had faced all things in his life - with courage, humour and compassion. But when it became clear that the treatments weren't helping and his prognosis became ever more dire, Terry used his remaining time to plan for his own passing as best he could. He'd discussed and planned out exactly how he wanted his funeral to go. He emphasised it should be a celebration of a life well lived, with many friends and treasured memories. The funeral service itself was short, with as little time spend ruminating over his body as possible. As soon as the body was interred, the congregation moved to The Pavilion, Terry's favourite restaurant. There had been a speech from Jake, which had been written by his parents and himself, which summed up the happy and easy going philosophy of his father. Terry stuck a few parting shots at some old friends into the speech, but mainly the aim was to get everyone laughing at the crazy stories he'd accumulated in his life.
The surprise of the evening had been when several of Terry's best friends got up and burst into song - singing a song they had written with Terry celebrating his life - from the glories highs to the most embarrassing lows. Terry had kept that part of the evenings plans secret from everyone, including his wife Liz and Jake. It was a masterful way of bringing everyone's mood right up, seeing these 50-something year olds riffing off each other like the best of friends. Which is exactly what they were.
The drive back to Liz's apartment was quiet, with the events of the last week leaving both her and Jake drained and exhausted. They had both agreed that the day had gone just as Terry had wanted, and his memory was truly honoured amongst those who knew him best. But beyond that, they felt no real need to push the conversation. Liz felt a slight pang of nostaliga as she climbed the stairs to her first floor apartment. When Terry began his treatments, they decided to commit fully to fighting the cancer. They hadn't kept a great deal of savings, but they were sitting on a big nest egg – their fully paid up house. So they sold it in short order, netting themselves a not insignificant windfall. They used a small amount of it to purchase this small one bedroom apartment in the city, with the a large part of the remainder going into his treatments. The hurt of losing her husband seemed sharper now she thought on the fact she had also lost the home she'd made with him for over 30 years.
With a heavy sigh, Liz kicked off her shoes as she stepped into her apartment. She'd managed to hold up well through the days ceremonies, but now within the confines of her home, the grief came creeping back.
"I'm totally wrecked Jake," Liz said. "I might just take a quick shower and head to bed."
Jake finished hanging his jacket by the door and slipped off his shoes. "Are you gonna be okay mom?"
Liz stopped halfway down the hall and turned. She seemed so frail and small, Jake thought. The moonlight filtered through the open window and cast her face in a ghoulish pale glow that seemed to sap away what remained of her vitality. She looked much older than her fifty two years in that moment. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, her breathe beginning to catch as tears welled up in her eyes. She hugged herself and clamped her eyes shut, the grief of losing her husband feeling like a cold fog that crept out of the emptiness of her apartment and spearing her in the heart. She felt the loss physically, as though a great part of her being was missing, creating a void down in the pit of her stomach that she knew would never be filled again.
Jake stepped over to his mother, caressed her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. She sobbed into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. He was at a loss for words, his own grief over losing his dear father blanketing all other feelings. So he simply held his mother and rubbed her back, trusting that the strength that he knew she had would return in time and help carry her through these dark times.
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"See you tomorrow, Liz!"
Kary was a colleague of Liz's, a gregarious woman with a larger than life personality and witty sense of humour. They'd just finished up a class at the gym in their office building and were heading their separate ways. Kary commuted into town from her home in the suburbs, but Liz only lived a short walk away.
"See you, Kary."
Following the death of her husband, Liz found solace in a steady routine. She'd kept her job throughout his illness, and returned to it as soon as she felt able. At first, it had been almost intolerable - dealing with the insipid problems of daily life seemed so hollow without Terry, and all those problems were dwarfed by the seemingly bottomless void she felt inside. But she knew she had to continue; she had to move forward with her own life. So she persevered, through good days with friends and supportive family, and bad days when she almost couldn't even summon the will to get out of bed. But wallowing in her own misery was not the kind of life she'd lived with her husband. Letting her misery consume her would only taint his memory, and all the joy he had tried to give her in life would be for naught.
It had been just over two years since Terry's death, and Liz had settled into a comfortable routine. She'd managed to coordinate a healthy schedule between maintaining her apartment, working, exercising and socialising. And she had to admit, committing to that routine had probably saved her in her darker moments. Knowing that there was something else to attend to, or someone else to connect with or someone else who needed her had sometimes been the tiny rock she needed to cling to when everything else seemed so unstable. She often found her thoughts drifting toward a sense of gratitude during her walk from the gym - she had a steady job that paid for a comfortable life, a home with no mortgage, and her health. Day by day, facing the world without her husband steadily became more bearable. It was never easy, but just a bit less miserable with each day.
Her introspection was broken when her mobile phone started ringing in her bag. She stopped and quickly retrieved it, swiping to answer as she resumed her walk.
"Hi Jake!"
"Hi mom,' Jake replied, "what's going on?"
"Just heading home from the gym now. It's been a while since you called."
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I've just been absolutely smashed at work. They've been pushing us all pretty hard these last few weeks to deliver on a new project. Most nights the entire team has been held back in the office until around midnight."
"That's crazy dear! And you guys don't get any overtime pay, right?"
"Ha, I wish." Liz smiled, the enthusiasm in her son's voice reassuring her that despite the long hours, he was well.
