Stark Contrast

A dimly lit room…

Bathed in the soft warm glow of a lamp…

That sit upon a table beside his favorite seat in the house.

A glass perspiring…

As a large sphere of ice melts away…

Watering down his vodka and blueberries.

Staring a blank expression upon the glass watching the condensation collect under the glass which will definitely leave a ring behind.

He reaches for a coaster and stops allowing the water to erode and warp the crafted wood of the side table. He lets out a heavy sign.

His wife always insisted on coasters. Grabbing the glass, raising it to his mouth as he grabs a coster placing it on the wet ring left behind. He chuckles softly as he places the coaster down softly.

Sipping the watered down remnants of liquor he places the glass back down and on the coaster this time.

He poured just a little because he doesn’t want to be too dazed, but wants a little help to numb the dull pain for when his son gets home.

Exhaling a deep and slow sigh…

He glances down noticing he hasn’t yet changed out of his suit.

His routine is messed up a bit and realizes his bladder is screaming and has been for an hour as he stared sadness at his glass.

Gripping the arms of the chair he leverages himself up, grabs the glass and shoots the remaining watery liquid down.

Munching on the ice and blueberries…

He gently slaps his face with both hands…

Glazed with the cold condensation from the glass…

Giving a slight jolt of motivation from the cold as he shuffles to the bathroom.

Placing the glass into the sink…

Rinsing it and placing it back in its spot next to the bottle…

For later inevitable self medication.

He likes blueberries in his vodka because… “the antioxidants are good for you,” his wife would always say. So he is sure that there are always fresh blueberries in each glass.

They don’t taste like much to him…

But blue was her favorite color so he continues to buy them.

Looking back at the glass…

Considering another pour…

Dismissing the glass with a wave of his hand as he walks to the bedroom.

Slowly untying his windsor knot from the tie.

His knees buckle…

Eyes water…

As his legs give out and he sits on the bed…

One single tear runs down his cheek.

Leaning forward he unties his shoes and places shoe horns in each before placed in the closet.

Glancing down at his work watch…

It’s almost time for his son to be home as a slight smile graces his face. His son will cheer him up with a welcome distraction.

Pants and shirt are unfastened…

Placed into a hamper meant for the cleaners.

Sitting at the edge of his bed…

Staring at the photo of him and his wife on their wedding day…

He sniffles away the drips of sorrow…

While only in an undershirt and boxers.

Walking into the bathroom he starts a cold shower…

Hoping that jolt will pull him out of this quicksand of funk.

Starting the shower…

As he stands under the head…

Watching the cold water emerge toward his face…

Tilting his head down and he begins to breath laboredly.

The cold is refreshing…

But the sensation won’t shelve the pain of her passing.

She has passed…

But the connection lives on.

The love persists and lives as pain….

That pain reminds him of love had and lost.

Better than not having it at all.

For now.