Like Shattered Glass, part III

Continued from Shattered Glass, Part Two


Observing Sara in the far corner of the lounge, Emily made her way nervously in Sara’s direction. Suddenly a young man caught hold of her arm.

“Come on mum, let’s get you back to your bedroom and dressed,” the voice was kindly, and Emily looked up into the chocolate brown eyes. She felt a sudden rush of overwhelming love for the young man. She wanted to pull him close, and kiss his fair hair, and hold onto him as if she would never let him go. But who was he? Feeling confused, but she knew him, he looked so like her husband, Alan.

“Mum it’s me, come on now it ‘s alright, everything will be alright now,” the voice sounded encouraging.

Emily looked in abandonment at the many chairs, whose occupants had blank faces. Her face crumpled as if to cry, but somewhere deep down inside of her she knew that this place was home. Gazing again upon the kind young man, she said quietly “this is my life now isn’t it, this is where I live?”  Realization, like the sound of shattered glass, came suddenly to her. Smiling sweetly, she walked unaided down the corridor and into her bedroom, where she took a pale blue dress and cardigan out of the oak wardrobe, and began to dress.

Sobbing now, she looked at the beautiful array of cut flowers, which had been placed in a glorious cut glass vase on her bed side cabinet.

“Oh how wonderful,” she whispered, clasping her hands together over her chest. “Did you cut these especially for me, they are from the garden aren’t they dear, you mustn’t let granny catch you?”

Smiling at his mother, Robert did not have the heart to tell her he had bought the flowers from the garage on his way into town.

Lifting her plain gold locket, Emily  held it momentarily in her hands. “Robert dear, could you put this on for me please, your father bought this for me many years ago, it contains a lock of his soft brown hair?” Robert stepped forward and smiled at his mother, warmly.

“It is beautiful mum,” Robert took the locket from his mother’s hand and fastened it carefully around her neck. He knew her now. He knew her all along, but his heart saddened when he allowed himself to think about the illness, that on so many occasions had taken her far away from him. He glanced around the bedroom drinking in the surroundings, and he was so grateful to know that his dear mother was being taken care of.

The photograph of his late father sat on the window sill next to Emily’s bed; and the Derbyshire pottery mare and foal, ‘Spirit of Affection’ was shown off to its full advantage on the tall boy in the corner of the room. Robert recalled how his mother’s eyes had lit up with excitement when she un wrapped his present to her last Christmas. Afraid of breaking it, she had insisted on wrapping it in brown paper and had carefully placed it in the glass cabinet in the living room at home. He had hoped at the time that she would have placed the figurine on display. It had been the most expensive figurine that he had ever bought for her, but she had deserved it. All of her life she had devoted to Robert and his father, selflessly never asking for anything of her own.

Robert glanced back in his mother’s direction, happy to leave her today as he could hear her humming to herself. She was still a stunningly beautiful woman; whose eyes were filled with love and laughter, like he remembered them to b e whilst he was growing up.

Today, for a brief moment, dementia had left her still and contented. Like the sound of shattered glass, the fractured picture was revived once more.

Read me.
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My name is Annette, or Nettey to my friends, and I hope that you will soon become friends. I came to writing later in life, but according to my English teacher at school, I always had a vivid imagination and a gift of the word. I am not sure if I agree with that, but I do enjoy writing. Now at the age of 60, I still work; and I love the time that I spend with my grandsons, who have been both a source of inspiration in my life, and one of the most challenging rewards. It is true what people say, and that is with age comes a wisdom and a sense of peace not experienced before in life. I am still learning, life is nothing but diverse.

2 thoughts on “Like Shattered Glass, part III

  • November 5, 2017 at 11:34 AM

    Annette, this is such a lovely story portraying the sorrow of dementia so many people suffer from – loved ones also suffer to know a beloved family member often does not remember them. It is a beautiful story, well penned and very emotional. I was so happy when you gave Robert the precious gift of sharing some treasured memories with his mother and to know she, too, remembered. So much love you gave these two characters. Great work, my friend.

    • November 6, 2017 at 3:11 PM

      Thank you Phyllis, not only for the lovely supportive comments, but also for all your help and advise. I truly do appreciate it.


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