No More Jigsaws by Roy Young
Pressing the green button was like opening the floodgates. Only the deluge was of words, not water. Triggered by the simplest of greetings.
“Hello, Dad.”
It wasn’t his fathers fault of course; clearly, a lack of interaction led to his need to binge on conversation like an unfed dog binges on kibble. These days, calls had to be cut short or even ignored due to more pressing, more important matters. Invariably, the excuse of a child’s appointment of one kind or another was used as the de facto standard.
“Sorry, Dad.”
The brevity of phone calls was matched by the infrequent nature of physical visits. Sure, he could have made more of an effort to see him, especially now that his mother was gone. But life was so hectic, a series of competing priorities that had to be weighed carefully against their respective values. A visit now and again was better than nothing, after all?
He understood, didn’t he?
“That’s alright, son.”
Three days after the call with his son, Evan. Three days since he’d spoken with, let alone seen, another person in the flesh. Long days, that felt like weeks. Whilst the television offered some comfort, the company it provided was rather one-sided, and there were only so many jigsaw or crossword puzzles that he could stomach before feeling numb. He’d love to call more often, check in on how things were going, hear about the grandchildren and their latest adventures. But he didn’t want to be a burden. Mustn’t be that. After all, with work, parenting and married life, he knew just how busy Evan was. Sometimes just hearing a voice…a proper voice that answered back provided much-needed relief. A voice with a soul. Simple conversations, once taken for granted, had now become beacons of hope within an increasingly vast expanse of lonely, internalised thoughts. Thoughts that grew darker each day.
But Evan didn’t understand this loneliness, how could he?
“Thank you for making the funeral arrangements so straightforward.”
Dealing with the aftermath had given Evan time to reflect for what felt like the first time in an age. Later, as he threw the flower into the open grave, he fought hard to swallow the lump in his throat.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
He finally understood.
Roy Young is an IT professional by day who simply loves to read fiction. He has recently started his journey into the world of writing fiction after years of dreaming. Roy currently lives in the middle of England with his wonderful family and two badly behaved dogs.
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