Charlie: Flash Nonfiction by Tom Gumbert

Ramiz Dedaković

I cried in the shower this morning, the water washing away my tears but not the pain in my heart nor the vision in my head. The vision of you, when they said you were no longer with us, that you were at peace, asleep. Asleep, yet with eyes still open, searching mine, not understanding what was happening, or were you?

Were you upset that I was letting go, while you were not? Or were you telling me that it was okay—that I would be okay and we would see each other again?

Last night I woke to a thunderstorm, the lightening illuminating the house that trembled in the wake of the thunder. I lay still, listening for your voice in the space between, longing for your soft tapping at the door, a sound I know I will never hear again.

While the world suffers from the onslaught of pandemic and the pervasive fear that death will come calling, I selfishly can think only of you…of us. Of the way your whiskers tickled my cheek as we danced and the way you would sit next to me, holding my hand while we watched a movie. How I will never hear your voice again, see your face, hold you in my arms.

I know that time will heal this wound, lift the heaviness from my heart. But I pray that it will never diminish the love I feel or the memories I have of you.

 

Operations Manager by day and daydreamer by nature, Tom Gumbert and his wife Andrea live in a log cabin in the woods of southwest Ohio where they’ve practiced social distancing since 2006. Tom has been fortunate to have previous work published in various journals, reviews and magazines alongside his literary heroes.