It was a year ago tonight that the man she loved, passed away leaving her devastated and alone. All along he swore he would never leave her, but he did. Not of his choosing of course , but right now that doesn't matter, she feels such pain and sorrow, it is a moot point, for he is no longer with her, that's all she knows.

Her hunched shoulders, continue to convulse as she weeps, her eyes, full of tears, dart back and forth between the crumpled ribbon and the now fading scene outside the window. She slowly lifts her hand and caresses the arm of her rocker, her fingers tips lovingly trace the grain of the wood as if it were the veins in his arm and she feels momentary relief from the emptiness that fills her. A half smile forms as she recalls how he had found it in the garbage and against her protests, spent weeks refurbishing it. At the time, she couldn't imagine it ever being restored, , but as always, he put so much love and care into his work that even a battered up and broken rocker became a beloved treasure. A lump forms in her throat as she remembers the day he finally brought it up, and presented it to her. She tries to swallow but it won't go down and she is overcome by a new onslaught of emotions, washing over her. The tears stream from her eyes and she tastes the salty drops as they flow down her face and crest her lips. Slowing she raises her gaze to the clock and she tries in vain to read the numbers but the watery orbs blur and distort her vision. Even the clock is a reminder of him, understandably so, seeing as how he spent six months crafting it for her. The thought brings another temporary reprieve of the tears and uncontrollable convulsing as she actually smiles, tilts her head and allows herself to drift back in time to those days she now longs for.

" What in gods name are you doing down there " she yells from the top of the stairs leading to the basement. A mumbled "working hon..........just working," is the reply. " Working my ass " she grumbles to herself as she turns and heads back to the kitchen. As always, within five minutes he appears next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. " Be patient hon, its something special for you," he whispers in her ear. Her anger quickly dwindles and fades into a familiar warmth, like the comfort of a cuddly blanket, one that fills her with such feelings of happiness that she soon forgets what she was angry about in the first place. " Well it might help if I knew what you were doing down there " she sighs, knowing down right well he won't say.

This scene is re-enacted countless times over the coming months until finally one day she came home to discover him sitting in his easy chair, smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary. Crossing her arms and shifting her weight onto one foot she smirks at him and says, " ok, what are you up to now, why aren't you in the basement working on what ever the hell it is you do down there. He smiles at her, pushes back on the chair, raising the footrest and he stretches out full. Grinning from ear to ear now he locks his hands together behind his head and says, " I don't much feel like it, besides I'm finished ". Just then she hears an unfamiliar sound, originating from behind and to the left of her. Startled, she pivots quickly and is immediately frozen in place, her mouth gaps open, she is speechless and struggling for breath. " Oh my god , its beautiful " escapes her lips as she stares in disbelief at a seven foot high, hand carved Grandfather clock." " You mean" and the words trail off as tears of joy start to flow. By now he is behind her, holding her close and softly whispering ," yes hon, its for you."

Just as it had startled her years before the familiar chime now brings her back to the present. The tears have stopped and she can read the time, six o'clock. Again she looks out into the growing shadows and sighs a sad "oh hon". She continues to rock and reminisce about her life with the man that is no longer there to make her smile, feel warm and loved. In and out she fades from the present to the past and back again, each time feeling both edges of the sword, comforting joy followed by oppressive sadness.

The evening quickly passes as years of memories are relived, the happiness shared and thoughts of the man she so sorely misses. The hour draws close to eight when there is a knock at the door. At first it goes unnoticed but finally she is forced back to the present and she slowly gets out of her rocker. She makes her way to the door and extends herself up on tiptoes to peek through the peep hole to see who's there. A young man in a uniform stands there holding an envelope. " What is it, who are you," she says in an annoyed tone. Special delivery mam, comes the reply. "At this time of night, from who?" she snaps. " Not sure mam, there's no label other than your name and address." " Very well " , she fumbles with the latch opening it to the presence of the young man. " Sign here mam " he gestures as he hands her a docket form and a pen. She signs it and he hands her a oversized white envelope. There is nothing on the outside to indicate who it's from or what's inside, so closing the door and re-latching it she turns and proceeds to return to her chair. As she makes her way back, the clock chimes eight times, each stroke, music to her ears and yet a sad reminder of times passage.

Back in her rocker, she starts to move back and forth until her rhythm again matches that of the pendulum. Somehow it comforts her and she looks outside again, forgetting all about the package. She is not anxious nor curious what it is, after all, no one ever writes her any more, it's probably some advertising or promotion. She continues her gentle movement, the crumpled ribbon still in hand , with the package resting in her lap. Then as if something clicks inside, she stops her rocking and stares down at the envelope. She lets the ribbon fall to her lap and her trembling hands try to find a seam that she can pry, to open it. She catches an opening and forces her finger in and slowly tears along the seal. Finally open, she looks inside to find another envelope, this one blue, almost the same colour as her ribbon. She reaches in and pulls it out and as she does she finds her heart racing, for as it emerges she looks at the writing, realizing it was all too familiar, simply inscribed, My Precious.

A perceptible tremor starts to develop in her hands, her eyes wide in astonishment and her breathing becomes laboured. Her mind reels as she hears herself gasp, "no this can't be". The hand writing is that of her beloved, now dead the past year. She feels her chest heaving as her heart pumps furiously, her hands slowly starting to settle down and the tear ducts again produce a flood as they have done, so many times over the recent months. Running down her cheeks a few drops land on the envelope and she quickly takes the back of her hand and wipes her eyes to prevent further staining of the envelope.

Trying to compose herself she looks outside at the now darkened landscape, the only visible item being a solitary light stand. The snow, falling more heavily now, cascades through the cone shaped aura of the light, saturated with a mesmerizing stream of downy flakes. Lost for a second in apprehension she returns her attention to the envelope and slowly lifts it to her nose. Inhaling deeply, a smile develops as she detects the faint remains of his cologne, no doubt applied more than a year ago. Clutching the envelope to her breasts she feels a warmth overtake her as if he himself just entered the room. Taking a deep breath her fragile fingers gently open the envelope and she pulls out a couple of sheets of paper.

She starts to read, My beloved. Today is the anniversary of my passing and knowing you as I do, you are sitting in your rocker, keeping tempo with the clock and no doubt thinking of me and our life together. Remembering all the good and not so good times we had, the love we felt and the passions we shared. I promised you I'd never leave you and in keeping with that promise I made arrangements to be with you on each and every anniversary until the day you can join me. As I write this, I too am remembering all the joy you brought me and how much I'm going to miss your smile, your warmth, your love and your laughter. In a way, I'm glad I'm the one going first because to tell you the truth, I couldn't have made it without you. You were always the stronger one and I knew, as hard as it would be, you'd make it. As if his hand reaches in and touches her heart, she can't help it and she begins to sob softly. She can hear is words flowing from the pages, almost as if he were there, talking to her.

I know my love that I wasn't the easiest person to put up with for so many years but that is just a testament to your love and devotion, one I always treasured. This past year must have been god awful for you and the coming years will be no less difficult for you. All I can offer is the knowledge that you will never be alone as long as you keep the memory of me alive. Although I can not be with you physically, I will always be by your side, if only in spirit. I could never have imagined when we first started out how much you would mean to me. You became my reason for living and the very breath that I breathed. Upon hearing of my pending demise, all I could think about was you and the pain my departure would inflict on you and oh yes, my promise to never leave you. For weeks I was tormented by the knowledge that although technically I wasn't leaving, it would have the same effect, so I came up with the idea of writing you notes. So you see my love, even now, I am with you and will continue to be with you till you come and join with me in whatever awaits us. Expect a note on each anniversary, my precious. Always, in all ways, your loving husband.

With each passing word she tries to suppress the tidal wave of emotion that threatens to crush in upon her and upon reading that last line, she loses all control and again falls into a convulsing mass of tears. As if holding back a watershed, the dam finally breaks and overflows, but this time not with despair and loneliness but with joy and relief. Somehow he knew that this and future notes would help her through the ordeal and as usual , he was right. She sits and rocks with a new found energy and a twinkle in her eyes that hasn't been there in a very long time. Such a strange mixture of tears and joy as she gazes out her window onto the world outside.

" Auntie..............Auntie, wake up, you're dreaming again." the young woman shakes her, trying to bring her out of her dazed state.
" What........... huh.........oh " and a sad sigh escapes her lips.
" Dreaming? was I dreaming again? " she asks, confusion contorting her face.

She looks down into her lap searching for the blue ribbon but instead finds an old silk hanky, all crumpled, tattered and worn with age and countless washes. It is soft and easily mistaken for her beloved ribbon but it is not what she is hoping to find. An expression of sadness crosses her face as she realizes that there is no ribbon and that she is not at home but rather in a nursing home.
" Yes Auntie " replies her niece, in a kind and soothing voice, " you fell asleep and were dreaming again. I think it's time for your bath" and with that the young woman draws the attention of an attending nurse.