FLASH FICTION:MY HANDS shook while my mind raced with thoughts. I tried so hard to slow down, to give myself time to take just one thought and follow it through – it seemed almost impossible.
My mother had offered to stay over but I said no. I didn’t want anyone else telling me that I had to let go, release this grief. How unhealthy it would be for me, for Jamie, if I kept holding on to it so tightly. Nobody understood that this ball of grief was all I had left of them – if I let it go, I would have nothing. The little clock chimed 5am. I had to go to the hospital to collect Jamie today, to bring him back to this house. This hollow shell of a house, too quiet with just my voice trying to fill the rooms.
It was the last thing I felt like doing but I thought if I put up the Christmas decorations somehow the house might feel like home again, at least to him. My eyes burned and my throat twisted and tightened yesterday when he said, “I’m going to write to Santa again Mum, there’s still time, I’m going to tell him I don’t need the remote controlled jeep or the surprise, instead just bring Daddy and Laura back home to us.”
My hands shook a little more, black shadows flickering on pale walls, while I fiddled with the tape on the box. Was it really a year ago that I smoothed that tape to close over the lid and protect all our precious Christmas baubles for one more year?
I took another decoration out but this time the tremor in my hands was too much. I watched as my snow globe world rolled from my grasp onto the floor, across the boards, the snow fluttering wildly now. The hands on the miniature clock tower inside spun backwards, back through time, unwound the memories of other Christmases in this house. The tiny group of singers, their gently sculpted faces all red lips. Their bobble hats, twirled uncontrollably across the floor, buried in the deluge of snow, until the globe crashed hard against the marble fireplace and shattered into tiny pieces. Did they hear the sound of glass breaking? Had he turned his head to look back and see her body hanging limply in her baby seat? Did he hear Jamie scream, did he see his eyes opened wide with fear? Had he taken that drink when I asked him not to, when I phoned him? Had he driven too fast because I annoyed him by ringing and asking him not to have a drink especially with the kids in the car?
I fell to my knees and picked through the shards of glass, I lifted the tiny figures, held them to my lips, held them in my hands. The tiny figures lay perfectly still across my white, bleeding palms. The tears began to fall.
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