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The Wind

Trigger Warning... raw grief and death

By Dee Henderson Published about a year ago 5 min read
Top Story - January 2023
31

“Why?” I shouted into the wind.

“Because this was not yours to have,” the wind answered back.

“I don’t understand!” I shouted to the wind.

“It is not yours to fully understand now – only to accept,” the wind replied.

“Please…” I begged of the wind.

The answer, soft as a sigh, came on a whisper of wind, “No.”

I fell to my knees. “Please… I’m begging you…”

Another soft whisper of wind, “No.”

I fell on my face to the bare earth and cried many tears into the soft dirt. Gentle wind slowly swirled around me. I finally lifted my head and cleared my throat. Before I could begin my begging anew, another “No” came from the wind, not unkindly.

My tears ran unchecked as the wind continued to swirl around me, soft as a caress. Time seemed to stop as I lay in the mud created by my tears falling in the dirt.

“He’s my whole heart,” I managed to whisper.

“Your heart will heal.” The wind swirled warm and gentle around me.

I sat up slowly, but it was a moment before I could speak. “My son…” I had to pause before continuing. “He’s my whole heart.” I reached out caress the wood of the tiny box I’d carried up the mountain. “I can never heal.” It took great effort to choke back another sob.

“You will…” the wind whispered, “…in time…”

“How can I go on without him?” I was now leaning heavily on the box, letting my tears flow over it.

“You must.”

“No…” My tears kept falling as I clung to the box. “I don’t understand…”

“Think…” The wind gusted for a brief moment, as if to capture my attention.

“He’s all I ever wanted…” I sobbed again. “He’s so perfect…”

“Then you do understand…” The wind felt warmer now.

“No…” I looked up, trying to remember what I’d just said. “I’ll never understand…” I pulled the box closer, as if to protect it.

“You do understand…” The wind picked up speed as it continued to whisper, “… You just don’t want to accept it.”

I looked around for a spot at which to direct my reply. “No! I don’t want to! How can I?” I pulled the box onto my lap to hold it more tightly.

“You must. He’s only gone ahead to wait for you…” The wind was slowly breezing once again.

“Then I’ll go to him now!” I was letting my sadness turn to indignation.

“No!” The wind was no longer a whisper. “Your path does not end here!” The wind gusted sharply.

I rose to my feet, the box in my arms. “I’ll end it here! My son is an innocent babe – how can his path have ended before he could walk even a step of it?” I was angry now. I walked toward the ledge a short distance away, determined to join my son.

“NO!” With an authoritative shout, the wind blew hard, to keep me from my destination. I struggled against it in vain, then dropped to my knees, still holding the box I’d lovingly carved. My anger receded, leaving me in despair. I set the box gently on the ground in front of me and leaned over it, sobbing again.

“He was too perfect for this world. It’s now time to let him go…” The wind was soft and gentle once more.

Leaning over the box, holding onto it as if my life depended on it, I continued to pour out my grief in great gulping sobs. The wind, silent now, resumed its gentle caresses. Spent, I sagged over the small box, trying to catch my breath.

The wind went still. “It is time…”

Feeling defeated, all I could do was nod weakly. I kept nodding for a long moment before summoning the will to move. The will was still and silent, for which I was grateful. I slowly picked up the box I’d carved to hold the lifeless body of my tiny son. My son – perfect in every way – who had never even drawn a single breath. I’d never hear his laughter or see him smile. I’d never feel his tiny hand holding mine. I’d never see him grow to manhood or have a family of his own.

I stood there, holding that box, and mourning all that would never be. Time stood still as I grieved. As I began to move slowly toward the cleft in the rock face of the mountain where I’d chosen to lay my son to rest, I spoke softly.

“My dearest son… My heart… My Michael Victor…” My voice broke and I paused. The wind swirled gently around me once more. “My son… Today I lay your broken body to rest, here where I always wanted to bring you, once you were old enough to make the climb. Here, where I’ve always felt the strongest connection to the Great Wind.” I set the box in the cleft and placed my hands on top of it. “You are forever my son. Not a day will pass when I won’t think of you. With all that I am – all that I have within me – I love you, now and forever. Someday, I’ll join you in the hereafter.”

I began to gather stones to place on top of and around the box, to seal it in, so my son would be able to rest easy, undisturbed forever. The wind kept me company with gentle breezes that brought a measure of peace to my soul.

“You’ll never be alone here, my beloved son. The wind will keep you warm company until I can join you.” I finished placing stones in silent contemplation. Finally, I had the last stone in my hands. I gently laid it atop the others.

“I love you, my son.”

The wind blew gently, warm against my skin. I closed my eyes for a moment. I drew in a slow, deep breath.

I opened my eyes, let my breath out slowly, and felt peace begin to mingle with the pain.

“Thank you,” I said to the wind. A warm gust was my only reply.

I turned and began my long walk down the mountain. After only a few steps, I stopped. I turned back.

“I love you, son.”

I turned toward home again, knowing that someday I’d see my son again.

grief
31

About the Creator

Dee Henderson

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  3. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

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Comments (7)

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  • NooNs routes12 months ago

    brilliant, thank you so much

  • Mohamed Jakkathabout a year ago

    This is a beautifully written piece that portrays the raw emotions of grief and loss. The way the author personifies the wind and uses it as a medium to communicate with the protagonist adds a poetic touch to the story. The dialogue between the protagonist and the wind is heartbreaking yet poignant. The use of short sentences and pauses between them effectively conveys the protagonist's pain and despair. Overall, it's a powerful piece that captures the essence of grief and the struggle to come to terms with loss. Thank you for sharing this with us.

  • P. K. Ganiabout a year ago

    A very touching and powerful moment, whispers of the wind are sometimes all we have in the depths of grief.

  • Ahmad Dawoodabout a year ago

    What a heart wrenching write up.❤️❤️❤️❤️

  • 💯❤️💋I subscribed and hearted❗👍

  • Mohitosh Chakrabortyabout a year ago

    Very nice

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