Title: It's The Little Things That Hurt

Author: tangential thinker

E-mail: tangential_thinker@yahoo.com

URL: Pollyanna's Lyrics Wheel www.tifling.demon.co.uk/wheel/wheel.html

Rating: A solid G

Category: Angst (whose, withheld by author); vignette

Feedback: Welcomed at tangential_thinker@yahoo.com

Archive:  Ephemeral, Gossamer, others with permission

Spoilers: US Season 8; US Season 9 for "Nothing Important Happened
Today," and "Nothing Important Happened Today, Part 2."

Disclaimers: Not mine.

Summary:  Sometimes it's the little things that hurt the most when you
miss the one you love.

Author's notes: Many thanks to Dryad for the lyrics to "Daisies of the
Galaxy"  by Eels.  More comments at end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Funny, but it's the little things that hurt the most about his not
being here anymore.  Things I should be over already, after all these
years, but the old pain doesn't ever go away.


Little things, like seeing a car like his driving toward mine,
thinking "There he is!  He's back!"  Feeling my heart race, a flushed
tingle of excitement... then realizing it *can't* be him. He's gone
and he won't ever return.


He's gone.  Two words that shatter the fleeting joy in a million
ragged, broken bits.


Then the pangs come all over again.  My grief swells up inside, as
painful as the first time. My chest aches with the emptiness caused by
his absence.  My throat tightens and all too ready tears crest,
threaten to break my resolve to pretend my life is normal.


Little things, like reading something he'd like or finding some silly
thing he'd chuckle over --- so few people ever saw his lighter
side --- can loose the anguish I carefully stow away. Outside of
ourselves, people rarely ever experienced the wonder of his gentle
side, his tender humor.  I remember those things and I remember him,
and the emotions pour over me, and my world crashes again.  The roar
of my heartbeat drowns out clear thoughts.


"So long, so long ago...shouldn't I be over this by now?" I mutter to
myself. I drift through my days, washed along by events and
circumstances, numbing myself to what lies dormant.  But then I find a
book in the used book store he liked or an old LP album by some
forgettable group he liked or see his coat hanging in the closet...


I dreamed of him last night, about him and Will.  Will was vibrant,
full of life.  I can't remember what exactly Will was doing as I
walked with him, but he was running and laughing, full of life, happy,
busy. He walked with me from stage left to stage right in the theater
of my dream, illuminated by bright golden sunshine.  Will ran ahead,
out of my sight, and I hurried my pace to catch up.


Something caused me to look up toward a building to my left.  Near the
building, under a covered walkway, a man lay on an ambulance
stretcher, covered to his chin with a white sheet and blanket. He
didn't turn his head when I called to him; he didn't move at all.
Grim-faced attendants pushed the stretcher from stage right to stage
left in the theater of my dream.


I saw him there, leaving, and felt drawn to him.  "I loved you the
first time I ever laid eyes on you," he'd said before he left the last
time. In my dream, I whispered: "This time, you won't go alone.  This
time, I won't let you."  I wanted to go where he was going.  I wanted
to follow him, no matter where he was going, to be with him forever.


As I turned to follow, something stronger held me back.  I looked down
to see Will suddenly at my side again.  He grabbed my hand and lifted
up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek.  "Grandma Maggie, I know you're sad,
and I thought some daisies might cheer you up,"  he said, handing over
a fistful of haphazard daisies,  watching me with careful, sharp eyes
and a 150 watt smile. We hugged and Will's joy, his newness of life
washed over me, suffused my soul with the encouragement of and the
interest in the promise of a thousand new tomorrows.

I know the little things will always hurt.

But sometimes, it's the little things that help.

The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's notes:  This story was inspired by a dream that I had about
my son, Will; my father, and me. The woman is me, the man on the
stretcher is my Dad; and the boy is my son.

I saw my son run laughing and running (seems like he was in his soccer
gear ---
God, does he love soccer!), I saw my father being wheeled away by
attendants in my dream, then felt my son grab my hand, and pull me
along the sidewalk.  End of dream.

Obviously,  I changed the POV from that of a daughter to that of a
wife
in the dream to create the story, but the grief described is real.  My
Dad died
on November 1, 2001 (All Souls' Day).   He was a William, called Bill,
too.

You may have noticed a lot of references, although sideways ones, to
the ocean or descriptions of its movements and sounds.  I was hinting
at Bill Scully, Sr.  ;-)

I jabbered this out the day after I dreamed it.  Dryad just happened
to send lyrics which lent themselves to my dream perfectly and I thank
Dryad for that.  I also thank you for your kind attention to this
story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~

Daisies of the Galaxy by Eels

I'll pick some daisies
from the flower bed
of the Galaxy Theater
While you clear your head
I thought some daisies
might cheer you up