See You Soon, Oldie || Love, in Life and After.
It’s been a decade. Ten whole years since I last heard that lovely laugh, felt that happy energy that filled every corner of the house like incense. Ten years since I last saw her, stylish, elegant, and always radiant. Even in her final moments, Lucy smiled, closing life’s journey so gracefully. What a woman. I was lucky, beyond lucky, to have spent my life with her.
These were the thoughts that woke me up this morning. It felt like a dream, but not quite. More like drifting somewhere between memory and sleep. And through the haze, I could hear my own voice and thoughts… and her smile. That unforgettable smile I’d seen too often.
When we had our first child, my mother once warned me with a teasing laugh: “Be prepared, childbirth turns even the calmest women into warriors. They’ll cuss you out, pull your hair, bite your arm off!”
I believed her. And honestly, I wouldn’t blame anyone. After seeing what Lucy endured with each of our two children, whew.
But not Lucy. She would inhale deeply, exhale slowly, ask me to hold her hand and press her lower back. And even as I panicked inside, heart racing like a schoolboy, she would smile that same reassuring smile, the one that said: “We’re going to be okay, honey. The baby and I.”
And she was always right. They always were. What a woman.
I sit up and instinctively reach for her side of the bed. It's still her side. Always will be. Grief doesn’t leave, it just softens into a dull ache. Like a wound you learn to carry.
I reach for my glasses from the wooden stool beside me and attempt to stand. My bones remind me just how old I truly am.
“Ha ha… what an oldie you are, Luke,” I mutter to myself, imitating her voice. She’d been calling me “Grandpa Bones” since my 70th.
“Happy birthday to youuuu,
Happy birthday to youuuu,
Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to youuuu!”
Raymond: “Grandpa, blow the candles!”
I tried to stand, but my back stiffened and I let out a groan. Lucy gave me a playful smack and laughed, actually snort-laughed:
“You’re such an oldie.”
Our children, Willy and his wife, Georgia and her husband, and our one and only grandson, Raymond, all burst into laughter.
Georgia: “Dad and I are in the same boat now. I also usually need all the energy in the universe just to stand.”
Me: “That’s expected, my darling. You’ve got two extras growing in you.”
I smiled as her husband rubbed her belly. Lucy was over the moon when we heard the news. That night, she held my hand so tightly as we prayed for our daughter’s happiness. Our children, those same kids who once called us “so cringeeee”, said at their weddings that they wanted a love like ours.
What a win.
Lucy: “Well, my honey bunny might be an oldie, but he’s a goldie! Oh wait, that rhymed! Honey, that rhymed! I’m a genius!”
I remember her bouncing around the room like a teenager. She’d been jumping like that since her twenties, and every jump still surprised me. Classic Lucy.
How could someone so full of life go before me?
I find myself at the bathroom mirror, staring at the face she used to love. Georgia is bringing the boys over today. They’re 14 now. Big boys.
Lucy would’ve adored them. She always wanted more kids, but I couldn’t watch her go through that pain again. Not after Georgia’s birth.
Me (at the hospital): “Doctor, please, is there absolutely nothing you can do? Can’t you transfer the pain to me? Anything to ease it for her?”
Doctor: “Mr. Davis…”
He smiled. Why the h*ll was he smiling?
Doctor: “She’s just two centimeters away. She’s doing great. She refused the epidural, but everything is medically normal. Try to stay calm.”
Normal. Right. That doctor didn’t know Lucy. Stubborn as ever.
Suddenly, the alarm beside my bed went off. Strange. I hadn’t set one. And then… the vinyl started playing. Our wedding song.
I froze.
The scent of Lucy filled the room stronger than ever. I stepped back from the bathroom mirror and returned to the bedroom, eyes scanning for her in every corner.
The rocking chair. Her side of the bed. The knitting corner. Everything was still in its place, just how she liked it. Her first knitted shawl, draped gently, with the pillow our son gave her one Christmas, propped on top.
Cherry, vanilla, and a hint of mint, her signature scent.
The wooden decor she picked, timeless and warm. Georgia used to say, “Mum is so futuristic. How did her taste end up trending years later?”
That was Lucy.
I moved to the alarm clock to switch it off, but something else caught my eye. An envelope on the bedside stool.
“My dearest grandpa bones,” it read.
My hands trembled. Tears welled. I sat down on the edge of the bed, slowly, and took a deep breath. I reached for it, still shaking, and opened it.
Inside was a ticket and a letter. I placed the ticket on my lap and opened the letter. Lucy’s scent wrapped around me like a blanket.
"My dearest Luke,
Oh honey. First, thank you. For looking after Willy, Georgia, Raymond, even Frances and Francesca, in my absence.
But… was I really absent? 😏 I saw everything. The joy. The laughter. The love. But I saw your pain too, and oh Luke, I’m so sorry. So sorry I left first. But I found peace knowing you were never alone. None of you were.
It’s time, honey. I’ve prepared a place for you. It has the loveliest garden. A beautiful home, just like ours, only warmer. I’ve missed you.
Look, I wasn’t supposed to do this, but I may have threatened the Grim Reaper. Told him to be gentle with you. Told him not to keep us apart too long. Usually, there’s a long process, you look up names, fill out forms, stand in line… but I pulled some strings 😉
That ticket? Keep it close. When the time comes, it’ll bring you straight to me. So when you close your eyes for the last time, I’ll be the first thing you see.
I love you. Say your goodbyes. And give my regards, if that’s possible, ha ha.
See you soon, oldie. – Lucy
I’m a mess. Eyes soaked. Letter soaked. But somehow, I feel… joy. Peace. A strange kind of euphoria.
She’s waiting. For me.
I carefully fold the letter and place it back in the envelope. The ticket, though, I hold it for a moment longer, press it gently to my chest, then slip it into the front pocket of my shirt. Right next to my heart. Just where Lucy would want it.
With a small, giddy chuckle, I push myself up, groaning, of course. I wonder if the bones would still ache in the afterlife. I chuckle again and hobble toward the bathroom with a little bounce in my step.
Georgia and the boys will be here soon. And I’ve never been more ready for a day to begin.
Thank you for reading. 🧡