Love Is Forever

Story Time with Grandpa

This time, I'm gonna do something a little different. Rather than just share my own opinion on life, I want to introduce you to one of the main players in my novel, The Sleeping Giant. 

Richard “Doc” Mayfield is a small town veterinarian on the verge of retirement. He loves to maintain a "grumpy old man" facade, but doesn't really fool anyone who knows him. Here is a small excerpt that tells more about what a great guy Doc is.

*** 

[Thursday, 8:00 a.m.]

Doc pulled into the parking lot of the Middleton Cemetery and killed the engine. He sat there for a minute gazing across the green lawns, interspersed with headstones and angelic statuary. Climbing out of the truck, he winced as the arthritis in his left knee gave a little holler. He tolerated most of the aches and pains which accompanied aging, but the darn arthritis wasn’t always easy to ignore. He supposed he might have to use some of that Icy-Hot stuff, but Lord, it smelled so bad!

     Reaching into the back of the truck, Doc retrieved a small plastic bucket, containing gloves, a whiskbroom, and other small yardwork tools. He also grabbed the small bouquet of lilies he’d picked up on the way here; lilies had always been Aggie’s favorite.

     He approached the familiar headstone with reverence, as he had almost every week for the last thirty-five years. Setting the bucket down, he leaned over and removed the stems of what had once been fresh flowers before replacing them with the bundle of lilies. He was careful not to drop the old stems, but instead folded them and placed them in his jacket pocket—he would deposit them in the can by the entrance on his way out.

     He grabbed the whiskbroom from the bucket, and lovingly brushed the surface of the headstone, then slowly traced the words with his fingertip.

Agnes Lucille Trindle

15 Jan. 1943 – 18 Jun 1961

Fly With Angels, Beloved

     Often, especially when he was younger, seeing her name engraved on this stone had brought him to tears. Her name should have been Agnes Mayfield . . . and it shouldn’t have been here at all. Although he had come to terms with his grief many years ago, he still missed her every day; he always would.

     “Aggie my love, I’m sorry I didn’t make it out to visit you last week. Between delivering a foal on Wednesday night, and surgery on a dog on Thursday morning, it was just too hectic. I know you understand sweetheart.”

     He pulled the only weed he could see growing at the base of the stone, and using the spade, he edged the entire plot where she was buried. Her grave was the most well kept one in the cemetery, due to his weekly upkeep, and it saddened him to think how so many folks had no one to do this for them.

     His mind returned once again, as it did every time he visited her, to that night many years ago, when his future father-in-law had come to the door, tears streaming down his face. The news of the accident had shattered Doc’s world forever. The worst part was, he had no one to blame except maybe God, and somehow his anger never seemed to impress God much. He even found his faith hadn’t been completely destroyed . . . and once the anger had been replaced by acceptance, he had even started attending church again, if only intermittently.

     Doc had discovered a sad truth on that long ago day—losing your soul mate permanently divided your life, into a before and an after. Once, he had been a carefree young man looking forward to becoming an animal doctor, with his wife standing by his side; now he was a lonely old man who found solace in treating the animals of his friends and neighbors, and in his surrogate family at the clinic.

     “I think I’m going to give young Peter a raise. I’m pretty sure he intends to ask Amanda Donner for her hand in marriage. A young man with matrimony on his mind needs all the financial support he can earn; besides, he really is the hardest working young man I’ve ever hired.

     “I gave Grace some roses for her birthday yesterday, and you’d think I’d given her a gold mine. It warmed my old heart to see how much some silly flowers meant to her, and it made me realize yours were getting old, after a missed week. I hope you like these new ones.”

     He stood, and as the muffled popping of his left knee disturbed the stillness, he glanced at her gravestone again, then reached down and picked up his bucket of tools.

     “As always, my sweet, sweet dear, I’ll see you again, when God calls my number. Until then, I love you.”

     With that he turned and slowly walked back towards the parking lot, and the quiet ride home in the truck.

***

If you haven't yet read my novel, I would be honored for you to take a stroll with me and the residents of a little town, in the shadow of a waking volcano. There you'll meet many more characters and see how their lives intersect and unfold, as they travel unknowing toward the largest natural disaster in US history.

Thanks for joining me and for letting me tell you a bit of a tale,

From Grandpa's Heart...