Done to Death

DONE TO DEATH:


We met when I was eighteen and from that first moment came the understanding we’d be together for a lifetime.

It was love at first sight for me and she felt the same – she knew I’d take care of her, it’s all she needed.She was beautiful. Dark skinned, bright flashing eyes, and not too tall – perfect. Although she had one tiny flaw discovered soon after our introduction; she was high maintenance, like all females. Well I didn’t mind, she gave me back a great deal more than I deserved.

We began our journey soon after we met. Saw things few even dream about during the years we shared. I remember one memorable journey across a hot, relentless desert highway that made us both choke. Many times we’d stop to catch our breath and let the dust settle. We’d stand side by side to watch an impressive sunset – the clouds turning a bruised purple and orange as storm clouds lingered on the horizon. Sometimes we camped for the night and she’d keep me safe and warm from the cool desert chill, while mysterious creatures scuttled around us.

After the desert came relief when we reached the coastal road, the cool sea breeze in our faces gave us both more vitality. The fresh air cleaned our lungs and charged our batteries. However, she didn’t like the surf. Once I took her down to the water and she stood dead still in her tracks – it took me ages to get her back on to dry land after she froze in the swirling waves. It was my decision not to have children. It wasn’t hard to imagine them leaving ice cream cones in the back seat, scratching the upholstery with their shoe buckles, and slowing us down when they needed to stop for toilet breaks. It was no life for kids.

As we both grew older, the realisation came she wouldn’t make it to the end. Her small heart wasn’t strong enough. The years of travel had weakened her, slowed down her drive to go on. Now I wished we’d stayed home more – wished we’d settled into an average life of domesticity instead of steering on to the next unfamiliar town – the next anticipated sight.

But being stubborn I had urged her on, said she’d be fine and told her she complained about nothing, even though she often warned me of her fatigue. She would drop little hints – sometimes funny little sighs and now and then a little cough. Knowing deep down the cough was serious and it was damaging her strength, I ignored the signs - couldn’t admit she was sicker than she let on.

How could do you prepare yourself to say goodbye to the second most important female in your life? Besides, I had no money left for the help she needed. Travelling and using up my inheritance had come at great cost to her.Stroking her smooth dark skin at night after a long tiring day is one of my happiest memories. Now it's dimpled and faded, despite the money I’d spent on her to maintain it. In that regard she didn’t ask for much.

Yesterday she coughed her last breath. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I rested my hands on her body and recalled our years together – the things we’d seen – the words I’d said and the way she spoke back. Once I yelled at her, but she forgave me – she always forgave me.

So I stand dry eyed as they take her away and hold what’s left - the faded photograph taken when we met. It’s a picture of me sitting on her bonnet – the dark green bonnet of a Mini Cooper ‘S’.