Hello,
My name is Jacqueline,
And welcome to my Tranquil Spirits podcast.
Today I thought I'd do something a little different.
Some of you may or may not know that I write stories for children under the heading of Grandma Has a Story.
And I also write stories for grown-ups,
And I'd like to share one with you today.
Now this is a story about how life continues after we lose someone dear to us,
Which,
At some time or another,
Will happen to us all.
I hope you enjoy my story.
It's called The Black Labrador.
I pick up my walking stick and head for the door.
I know Jack is watching,
And then I hear him coming up behind me.
Come on,
Old boy,
Let's go for our walk.
It is late in the afternoon.
There are not normally many people out at this time of day.
That is one of the reasons I enjoy walking now.
They are probably at home with their families,
Having dinner or watching the evening news.
Now don't get me started on the news.
That is another reason I walk at this time,
To stop me watching the news.
The news always seems so depressing,
Filled with negativity.
Does nothing good ever happen in this world anymore?
I move my attention from these thoughts,
Not wanting to depress myself,
And head out to the field just opposite my house.
I like to walk in the field.
The lush green grass is soft underfoot,
Making it more comfortable for my old bones to move a little easier.
And Jack can run to his heart's content,
Without me worrying about traffic getting in his way.
As I look out at the field,
I can see it is empty of people,
Just the way I normally like it.
But today I wouldn't mind sharing a thought or two with a stranger.
My family have been very good,
But they ask difficult questions,
Questions I do not really want to answer.
Strangers are more polite,
And passing the time of day with them tends to be just idle chatter of no significance.
That is what I need just now.
I do not want to think or remember.
I just want to be in the moment and pretend.
I move towards the field.
The farmer who owns the field does not mind people walking through it.
His main farm is slightly further away,
And he tends to leave this field as grass,
Although sometimes he puts a few cows or sheep into it to graze and keep the grass down.
But today I don't see any animals.
To get into the field,
I need to tackle an old wooden kissing gate,
A gate that allows people,
But not livestock,
To pass through.
I used to be able to wind my body through it easily,
But now that I'm older and not quite as flexible as I used to be,
This gate causes me a bit of a struggle.
Many things cause me a bit of a struggle nowadays.
My body does not seem to like moving,
Especially first thing in the morning.
It always takes me a good hour to wake it up.
I try to stretch a little,
But even that seems a chore.
But once I have had my coffee and pretend I can touch my toes a few times,
I begin to feel a little better.
Waiting in line at the supermarket is another thing my body does not enjoy.
I stiffen up from standing,
Even for a short amount of time,
And then my joints begin to hurt as I shuffle the two steps forward each time the queue begins to get a little shorter.
It's a good thing I always have my cane in hand,
Something to support me.
Maybe a line just for us elderlies would not be a bad thing.
And then,
When I reach the till and go to pay for my goods,
I often forget my PIN number for my credit card.
I get flustered at times,
You see.
They tell me it is old age,
But the truth is,
It's because I know what some people think of us oldies.
The youngsters forget I used to be young like them.
They think we are slow and forgetful and should not be allowed out on our own.
I agree,
We are slow,
But many of us are not forgetful.
I just get flustered,
As I do not like keeping people waiting,
And this makes me falter over my PIN number.
But eventually I get it right,
And as I do,
I sense the sighs of relief behind me.
Yes,
That line for the elderly sounds even more appealing.
At least we would all be sympathetic towards one another.
Oh well,
Let's not dwell on this subject anymore.
Old age comes to most of us lucky ones eventually,
And it normally does not come alone,
Bringing with it aches and pains and other undesirables.
I shouldn't complain,
Really.
I am one of the lucky ones at age 81.
And anyway,
Who enjoys listening to a complainer?
That's another reason I switch the news off.
It is mostly about complainers.
The government's not doing this,
Or my neighbours doing that.
Oh,
Do not get me started on the news.
I ease my body the best I can through the kissing gate,
And I set off.
There's a stream which runs along the bottom of the field.
Jack loves jumping into the stream.
He's always loved jumping into the stream to cool off or just to play,
Ever since he was a puppy.
I take a ball out of my pocket and throw it a few times.
It's an old tennis ball I keep with me,
Especially for our walks.
But Jack does not seem interested in chasing the ball today,
So I pick it up and put it back into my pocket.
I finish my walk around the field and arrive back at the kissing gate.
I call to Jack and head back home.
Before I sit down,
I put the kettle on to make a nice cup of tea.
I know once I sit down my old bones will just collapse and not want to get up again,
For a while at least.
I throw one or two dog biscuits into Jack's bowl,
Something I've always done after our walks,
Ever since he was a puppy.
I bought Jack 16 years ago,
A surprise birthday present for my wife,
Elsie.
She had always wanted a black Labrador,
And when I heard a friend of mine was breeding them,
I asked for one straight away.
Jack quickly settled into our way of life and brought us so much joy from the moment he walked in through the front door and peed on my wellington boots in the hallway.
In that very moment,
We knew he would be fun.
The noise of the kettle switching off brings me back to the moment,
And I take my favourite mug out of the cupboard.
I go to take a teacup and saucer for Elsie,
A habit I have found hard to break.
Elsie died three years ago.
She had stomach cancer and did not live long after her diagnosis.
Life was hard at first without her,
But Jack helped me through the daily challenges of missing her,
And then we got into a routine of living without her.
But certain things I find hard to overcome,
Like sleeping on my side of the bed.
We used to laugh about being able to sprawl out right across the hole of the bed when the other was not around,
But still I cannot bring myself to do that.
I still leave her side empty,
And some nights I'm sure I almost feel her in bed beside me.
I still keep her toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom.
It gives me some comfort as I smile each time I see it.
My dressing gown hangs behind the bedroom door on one of the two hooks I put up there when we moved into this house 50 years ago.
My dressing gown hangs on the other hook,
And as I remove or hang my dressing gown in the morning and evening,
My fingers brush against hers,
A chance for me to wish her good morning and night,
In case I should otherwise forget.
The thing I miss the most about her not being here is the conversation.
Elsie and I would talk about everything,
Including our emotions and feelings.
We didn't always agree on things,
But we respected each other's views and loved discussing our reasons and our thoughts.
Disagreements were dealt with before the day ended,
And we always went to sleep in each other's arms.
And now,
As I do virtually every time,
I reach for the teacup and saucer when I go to make myself a hot drink.
Elsie would only ever drink tea,
And always from a teacup,
Which had to be made from bone china.
I smile now as I see her taking her first sip,
Saucer in one hand and teacup raised with the other.
Ah,
A perfect cup of tea,
She would say every time.
I wipe a tear from my eye as I quickly throw a tea bag into my favourite mug,
A mug which says Best Husband upon it.
I hope I was.
I did my best over the 55 years we were married,
And they were happy years,
Very happy years indeed.
I pour the boiling water into my mug,
Filling it to just below the rim.
I allow the tea to brew for a minute or two as I look out of the kitchen window.
I only have a small garden,
But I can see the field I walk in from here,
So my view is quite a vista.
The sun is just beginning to go down and sheds a kind of golden glow across the land.
How lucky we are with the different seasons.
I'm not sure which one I like the best as they all bring their own joys and beauty.
I enjoy the summer with its long light evenings,
Which allows our walks to be so enjoyable in the warm setting sun.
I also enjoy the autumn when Jack loves chasing the golden coloured leaves as they blow in the wind.
Many people do not enjoy the winter as it is an especially cold time,
But I enjoy it.
The crisp frosty mornings bring beauty everywhere you look as Jack Frost touches the leaves on the trees and bushes and makes the cleverly spun cobwebs look like amazing pieces of lace.
And when the snow falls,
What fun is had by children as they run around trying to catch a snowflake on their tongue or compete with each other to build the biggest snowman.
Jack loves chasing snowballs and frolicking in the fresh laid snow and it always amazes me how happy people seem when fresh snow has fallen.
And then the seasons start again when spring appears.
A sign of new beginnings when snowdrops and daffodils begin growing as they burst from the earth and rise up,
Creating a wonderful sight across the land.
Ah,
Life is good when we look around at the beauty before us instead of focusing on the misery and lack,
The things out of our control.
I take the tea bag from my cup and add a spot of honey to the golden brown liquid.
After giving the tea a stir,
I grab a couple of ginger nut biscuits from the biscuit barrel and carry them into the lounge where I place the items on a little table beside my chair.
I sit in my chair,
Trying to do so in a controlled manner,
The intention being to strengthen my muscles.
The temptation to flop straight into the chair is strong,
But I have got to exercise this old body whenever I can.
Settled into my chair,
I sigh as I relax.
I could do with a new chair,
But this one is like an old pair of slippers.
It may look old and worn,
But it is still comfy and has moulded to the shape of my body over all these years.
I dunk my biscuit into my tea,
Just for a few seconds.
Ginger nuts are hard and perfect for dunking,
But you still have to be careful not to leave them in the liquid for too long,
Or you lose them.
There has been many a biscuit lost from over-dunking.
Timing is key.
The count of three normally works best,
And then the biscuit will be the perfect softness.
Any longer and it will be too soggy.
That is,
If you haven't already lost it in the dark depths of the mug.
And you only remember it is there when you get a mouthful of the soggy mess.
Mmm,
A tea-soaked biscuit is very Moorish.
I'm about to pick the second biscuit up when I hear the sound of my front door opening.
Hi Dad,
It's only me!
I hear my son shout.
In the lounge,
David!
I call back.
His friends call him Dave,
But I like his full name.
David means beloved,
And he really is our beloved son.
Elsie and I had tried for another baby a year or two after David was born,
But it was not to be.
But we gained a wonderful daughter-in-law when he married Lydia 25 years ago,
And our two grandsons,
Luke and Levi,
Have wonderful careers in the army.
David walks into the lounge and comes over to hug me.
Lydia not with you tonight?
I ask,
Wondering where his wife is.
Lydia normally comes over with him.
Yes,
She's just coming.
We have a surprise for you,
Dad,
He says.
At that moment,
Lydia walks into the lounge,
Followed by,
No,
It can't be.
At first I think it is Jack,
But Jack is no longer with us.
He passed away nearly six months ago now,
And I miss him every day.
Things begin to look a little blurry as I realise tears are flowing down my cheeks.
This is Tilly,
Lydia says in a soft voice,
Noticing my tears but not acknowledging them.
She's four years old and looking for a new forever home.
Lydia unclips the lead from the black Labrador's collar and waits.
Tilly glances around the strange room and then comes straight over to me and sits at my feet.
She looks directly into my eyes as if she senses my apprehension.
Hello,
Tilly,
I say quietly,
As I feel Jack by my side.
What do you think,
Jack?
I ask my old buddy without hesitation.
I know straight away he approves.
I pet Tilly's head and smile as she stands up,
Places her head in my lap and wags her tail with joy.
She knows too.
Perfect,
I say,
Looking up at David and Lydia,
Who both seem relieved by the smile on my face.
Another dog can never replace my Jack,
But Tilly will help mend the hole in my heart.
I bend my head down to look at Tilly.
As if understanding my words,
Tilly reaches up and gently kisses away my tears with her tongue.
Do you like walking,
Tilly?
I ask,
And she jumps back with excitement,
Knowing exactly what I'm saying to her.
I think we're going to make a good team,
I say,
As we head out to the door.
And I can hear Jack as he runs up behind us.
Thank you for listening to my story.
I hope you enjoyed it.
I welcome any comments you may have about this story or how it made you feel.
Thanks again for listening.
Bye for now.
