Douglas - A heart shaped locket

Where we see walls, she would imagine trees, she would tell me where each one was and the shade of green shining through the sunlight. All these words that we only ever heard of in history books, she talked as if they were right in front of her. Grandmama saw light in the corners, wind in the quiet and stars beyond the walls of our world.

All my life my Grandmama had a way of seeing, that left us all in awe. Today of all my days, I long for the sight she had to make this dawn less stoic.

I look to my left where he would be standing, but he isn’t here. He would be here to hold my hand. 

We would be standing together in remembrance. But he isn’t. He is gone. 

Grandmama would look in the places he should be. She would look where I see an empty space and she would clutch her chest and gasp only to go so far into the void that an almost light would come alive in her eyes. 

I wonder if she was imagining him there the way she did trees, smiling back at her.

Now I stand here today, alone, on this dawn of her end day. I stand as her witness, her only witness as I am all that’s left of our family. I guess this is more than he got, we were notified by mail and no segment allowed for viewing. He was just gone, he went for a walk with Grandmama and she came back alone. Nothing was left, not even an explanation, no final wish and testament, no bequeathments. I have wondered what he could have done so bad that they would end his time without re-assignment or even a hearing. It is unheard of. 

Grandmama won’t speak of it now, she just looks off into the void and smiles far away from here. 

Now I must collect my Grandmama’s only allotment to me. Her locket -a heart shaped locket that she never parted with. 

I hated that locket now, she could’ve saved her life with it but instead she gave her last day up and left her locket to me. Did she really think I would bother to try and keep going now? 

She had told me about an ocean, a vast empty space of water that is filled with life that holds so many of the worlds secrets. I have seen her secret drawings before she destroys them for fear of getting caught. Now I wish her world of imagination was real -that this ocean could be here so I could send this locket deep into the abyss where now my whole family have gone. The abyss could swallow me whole. 

I sound bitter but living in this world with no conflict, no noise, no imagination or colour, it is a world where progression removes the need for hope. As my Grandmama would say, it is a world to be stoic in. 

A world where worldly possession is rare and made to be used as currency to get more time allotted to your life time. if you run out of currency then you run out of time.

Why would grandmama choose to end her time when they ordered payment from her? My chest feels so full and yet my face and voice as expected are stoic and still. 

There is no progression in acting out, as they say “from dawn to dusk, we must work a quiet manner. “

my Grandmama was a shut in, barely left her encasement. She would draw and paint with vegetables and paste but never kept them for fear of getting caught. I don’t know how she imagined such a world of colour. she didn’t seem of this world and yet here she was talking of homes and salt air and sand and grass at her bare feet. All things we don’t have here anymore. I would look down and see only ground. 

In line on the convoy this morning, I told myself I would use the locket when my allotment period was up for renewal but now my chest, my head, I won’t live the years she refused to barter for.

I will find a way to destroy this thing she has left me behind for. 

The undertaker looks to the walls now, watching the clock. My time of remembrance with Grandmama is up and he has closed my segment and begun to pack up. She lay there lifeless and cold. 

I want to shout at him that it isn’t time but I have never shouted before in my life. I heard a man do that once when I was little, my Maam was with me. The man was re-assigned to another encasement loft and we never saw or heard of him again. 

This is not the world to scream in -this is the way it is. 

The undertaker took out a satchel and gave me the resolve- her last wish and Testament. 

It was her final request bequeathed to me. 

I didn’t read it for fear of shouting my chest all over him. 

I took it and followed the corridor back to the commons room where my space to sit had been granted for 10 minutes. 

I didn’t open it as I knew I would tear it to pieces with my bare hands. 

A gold locket with a heart shaped stone. 

10 years of her life gone for a lousy heart shaped locket. 

Holding onto this envelope so tight, I almost see green around the commons room, I must be losing my bearings. I will take my walk around the walls now- maybe I can get some breath back. 

I am sitting on the stone walls where I sat with my grandmama after he passed, same stone, same spot. Who will sit here when my time is up? 

I opened her letter. 

‘My darling, hold tight to your heart and see only him and the trees. Xxx’

I felt wet stinging my eyes as I clutch this locket in pain and tried to close my eyes to hide my distress. Suddenly the room filled with light and warmth and green blurred my vision. I snapped my eyes open and dropped the locket. I gasped and the commonsroom escort looked my way ready to dismiss me for breaking the rules of quiet. 

I got my composure, pretended to right myself like I had tripped and I picked up the locket.

All the times my Grandmama had looked into the void and lost herself in her own eyes, I must’ve inherited her whimsy because never in my life have I ever seen colour like that. I must be absurd. And yet her words have me intrigued. For years now there is no more trees or stars or even the sea but she saw so well into nothing, one would wonder if it was really there? What did she mean him? See who? I open the locket thats so small and frail and I felt a tug in my chest as I saw him on one side and myself on the other- could she mean HIM? see only him in the trees? it would be nice... maybe in my moment of absurdity I could take a moment and I could close my eyes and imagine him there for just a moment? Maybe even speak to him again. 

But how can I imagine trees when I have never seen one before? I feel a heaviness almost pulling me under as I think of these things - wait, something almost pushing me forward? Suddenly I can hear a laugh, an unmistakable voice laughing like I have never heard him laugh before. I would know his voice anywhere. My heart hurt so much in that moment I thought I might break. As I look around me, the voice fades and I see only trees, colour and blue sky just like in the history books. Somehow the books never showed how amazingly green the grass is. I feel stuck in one spot like I’m glued to my seat and I feel a whoosh of air go past. I catch my breath only to discover the most amazing fresh air going into my lungs! It was salty and cold yet it filled my head with clarity and a sense of belonging that I have never felt. 

Something flew past me colourful and noisy and landed on the tree above, it is almost singing at me. My chest is still longing for that sound of laughter I heard but I’m still glued to my seat. My Grandmama talked of hope like It was something we could have. It is long known now that the rules of progression remove the need for hope as the consensus will decide our direction. 

No one alive remembers trees or stars as the history books say the stars went out and the trees died. The consensus was formed to prolong us. They built us places for air and gave us jobs. The accords were written and the people learned to lineup, take turns, be stoic and conflict was ended. Nothing in the history books described air quite like I just felt it. I was snapped out of my reverie by the commons room keeper who says my time on the wall is up, my remembrance is done and I have to return to my job. 

did I imagine his laugh in my grief at losing Grandmama?? I almost believe I must be absurd, but as I got up from the stone wall – I wet my lips and tasted salt. I looked down at my feet and saw sand on my shoes. My Grandmama talked of sand a lot, she said it blew in her hair and got between her toes.

Was it possible my Grandmama was really seeing into another world when she looked afar and talked of such beauty? 

My chest began to rise as I realised how her eyes looked full of joy whenever she looked at the empty spaces of him. When we looked to his empty chair, could she really have travelled across the void to a parallel place where he wasn’t dead? Where he was smiling back at her? 

Well I must be absurd -but even if I am, I prefer this world of colour and love over a tyranny of progress for the sake of progress. 

Why would Grandmama travel between the world when she can just go there forever? Why return to this world every day and suffer in the darkness? I saw my reflection in the glass as I passed the commons room door and realised my mistake. She must’ve stayed for me and visited for him. I realise now that all of my discord with her over her life time was misunderstood. She chose the time carefully -she cared for me and now she has given me a gift of a choice. My own free will to choose, she knew I would choose any place where he is. The world of colour and free air over a world of grey and manufactured stale air. A world of conflict paired with hope over a world of tyranny for the sake of progress. 

Suddenly her words make all the sense they didn’t before. 

Standing by the station, waiting in the line, I didn’t dare show my excitement on my face, I closed my hand over the locket that is now around my neck. I held my breath and imagined trees, but more than anything I listened for that laugh, that amazing deep laugh of whimsy that I longed for so much my chest hurts. 

And as a whoosh of air engulfs me, I feel myself falling. I breathe in salt air and suddenly arms wrap around me and I hear him say, 

“well it’s about time Sis.”