Inevitable

Light shines through a window, illuminating a dusty and tacky room; it reflects off of a picture frame and into an old man's eyes. The man stares glumly at the picture, an old black and white. In it, are a young man and woman; the man wears a tuxedo, while the woman has on a wedding dress. the young couple beam the the long-gone photographer. The old man feels as if his younger smile is mocking him, as if the youth he had been is laughing at him. He sighed and reminisced about the beautiful woman beside him in the picture. She remained beautiful all her life, even just before her death a few years prior. She and he had had an amazing fifty years together, but all of those memories served only to torture him after her passing.

He looked now to the other pictures on the shelf. A picture of his son, then a teenager, caught his wandering gaze. His son posed in a baseball uniform, smiling in the restless manner of a youth who would rather be elsewhere. The old man hardly saw his son after he left for college fifteen years ago. Their relationship had been strained ever since the boy was a young teen. He had not visited since the death of his mother.

The old man cried now, memories of his wife and of fights with his son overwhelming him. He regretted pushing his son away. His thoughts turned now to the decrepit body age gave him. As a young man, he wrestled, ran, played sports; he could do anything. Now, the most exercise his creaking joints got throughout the day came from just shuffling about his house, and even this grew slowly impossible. He considered a power chair, but his pride refused. His mind, once sharp, seemed now to lose information as soon as it entered. He never needed glasses until a few years ago.

He snarled, rose slowly, knees creaking and popping, shuffled to the shelf, and one at a time, hurled at the wall the frames and mocking images of youth and happiness. Each shattered, a sound slightly comforting to the man whose thoughts focused only on what life stole from him. He felt lonely, inadequate; an old, burdensome, hermit miser.

His angry grimace fell now into a blank, almost catatonic countenance. He knew how to solve his misery. It would only happen soon, anyways. He shuffled into his garage, grabbed a length of rope, and after coming back into the living room, stood upon a chair. His old hands fumbled for a time, before finally anchoring an end to the ceiling fan. After a few tugs to ensure the anchor's solidity, he tied the other end around his neck. He felt no fear; confidence in the inevitability of his demise, brought on by the ravages of time, stole long ago any fear of death. He jumped from the chair. His old, frail neck bones snapped easily when the drop ended a split second later.

His door knowb turned now, and the son pushed through. The son decided to visit his father, and brought with him his eight year old granddaughter.