Until our days

I couldn't be truthful in saying whether he'd sat down before me, or me before him, my mind deep in battle with the moral compass of that days newspaper.

It feels right to say that he had been there all along. A silent presence, invisible until contact.

It was the breathing I noticed first. A slow nasally intake, followed by a wheezing crackling output. Each direction seemingly causing difficulties, seemingly taking great effort. Without visual confirmation, I decided that my companion on the bench was old. Very old.

'Ahh the song of the Thrush'. The voice caught me by surprise. I looked at him for the first time. He was old, extremely old. He sat with a weight that only old age can bring. 'I...I'm sorry?' I uttered. He turned his head towards me, a slow motion that felt straight from a movie. 'Oh....sorry....I was just referring to the birdsong.' he said. I smiled and nodded until he added, 'it was her favourite'.

He used the word 'was', a widower then. His age being another indicator to this assumption.

'We'd often sit and listen to the birds. Our own personal orchestra. We'd close our eyes and let their notes paint colours for us'.

He was reminiscing. Using me as the sounding board. Memories of a life shared. I was happy to listen.

Her name was Annie. A warmth engulfing his face whenever he mentioned the name. 'My Annie'.

He spoke as if a teenager, still caught in the throes of love, still enjoying the excitement of a new relationship. Yet his knowledge of her, the understanding, his sheer level of connection evidenced experience that only a long term love can offer. They shared everything, inner thoughts and feelings, true emotions.

'We were truly together, Annie and I. We were one. The first time we kissed, it felt as if we'd been in love forever. That can happen you know, a couple meets and they feel as if they've done it all before, instantly know each other deeply'.

I asked the obvious question, 'how old were you when you met?'

'She was 85, I was 87', his smile became wider and his eyes told me he knew what I was thinking.

'We met in the care home'.

They'd been together for six months before Annie passed. He referred to her as the love of his life, his dream. The girl he'd waited for all his years, yet didn't know he was searching. I asked when she passed away.

'Two days ago.' As the hammer of his words struck me, I saw that his smile was still as wide and his eyes still bright and joyful. Again he read my thoughts.

'Oh of course I'm upset, and I miss her terribly but it's not the end.

Now son, you listen to an old man. When it truly comes you'll know. Every part of your being will tell you so. And when that moment comes, you take it. Whatever the situation, you take it and finally you have found your home. Finally you are complete. You are together and you are one.

Real love can't be measured by periods of time, it isn't material things or what society expects it to be. Real love is everything you want it to be.'

Then he smiled. A warm and happy smile. A smile of content and satisfaction.

'You see, when you find that love, you know it will last forever. Will exist outside the boundaries we confine ourselves within. Mine and Annie's journey has only just started, her final words to me were 'until our days''.

He said no more. His words danced on the wind as his breathe and heart eventually stopped.