Paris Sketch 5

He sits and stares across the path, peering through the jumble of gravestones to where his wife now lies. The seat may be some distance from her tomb, but he finds it harder than ever to clamber between the jumbled headstones and family crypts. If he sits in just the right spot, he can see the corner of her headstone from the bench. And that’s enough for him. He is aware of the crows seated silently in the trees above his head, their beady eyes watching his every movement, like harbingers of death waiting to claim him too.

The fact he cannot easily reach the graveside of his beloved adds to his sense of loss. She is so close, but his failing limbs and hunched back add to the infinite distance between the living and the dead.

For all the heartbreak, he realises that his advancing years and infirmity may actually mean that they will soon be reunited. Their children have been instructed many times that he wants to be buried alongside his wife, to be near her once more. He even added his wish to his will just in case they were not listening.

He has made this journey to the cemetery every Friday for the last eight years, since that terrible day when he was forced to say goodbye to her for the last time. Even as they lowered her coffin into the narrow plot a week later he still felt as though he was having a terrible nightmare. But as the dark black burial pit was filled and her casket disappeared from sight, he suddenly realised the finality of it all. She really was gone, and would not be coming back. She had taken the terrible, one way journey into eternity without him. What God had joined in holy matrimony, death had wrenched apart. The wounds left were still raw so many years later — time had healed nothing.

As the clouds gather overhead, a small car draws up alongside his bench. The driver leans out the window, nods a greeting and reminds the man that the cemetery will be closing in fifteen short minutes. The man sighs, returns the nod and staggers to his feet, heading slowly down the cobbled path to the main gate.

He hopes one day, sooner rather than later, that he never has to make this journey again. The crows swoop from their perches and perform a macabre dance upon her tomb, a final mocking gesture that reminds him that he still belongs to the living.