Fiona

By: LeRoy Briscoe

 

 

They had placed Fiona on her bed when they brought her home.... this was the
end.... if only it would end. This need to hold onto and keep someone;
while at the same time hoping to free them from all their suffering. Fiona'
s breath was deep and somewhat rasping as she seemed to labor for each
breath, but there was a peace about her, a peace that filled the room. Joel
kneeled by the bed, by his beloved Fiona and held her hand. She quietly
turned to him and smiled, and remembered.... remembered.... was it really
all that long ago......

 

 

There he was, an unruly boy, who had knocked her off her feet. She had
looked up at him. There was genuine concern in his eyes as he asked her if
she was alright, and reached his hand out to help her up. There was fire in
her eyes as in her anger she instinctively pulled herself further away from
his outstretched hand. "Why don't you watch where you're going!" She had
half snapped, half snarled, at him. Then he had laughed at her. She had
been mad, but now she was infuriated. How dare he laugh at her! It must
have showed in her face because now he was laughing louder and beginning to
double over in his amusement. She had hurriedly arisen, and was leaving
when he caught her by the arm. She twirled around to demand he let go when
she saw his face, as if, for the first time. "I'm sorry. You were right. I
should watch where I'm going." But it wasn't the words that held her there,
spellbound, it was his face, his eyes, the gentle and caring voice that
reached out to her, that bade her not be angry with him. She had loved him
then and there as he swept away the anger from her heart. This man, this
young man, was not just speaking words; this was his heart speaking; a heart
that she could hear, could touch, and could feel. She was bewildered. She
knew what she felt, but she could not understand what she was truly feeling.
He must have seen the bewilderment in her eyes. Then she heard him again,
as if she had been away, somewhere else, and had just returned. "Forgive
me. I shouldn't have laughed at you.... that is another of my faults.... I
see humor in to many things. I will try to be more careful. I just need
you to know that I am sorry, so you can forgive me." But there was
something more. There was something he was seeing that he had not seen
before. Was it her eyes? Something seemed so much different about her...
something was touching him. He wouldn't know it for some time, and even
when he did know it he wouldn't really be sure of it, but he was in love.
He had met a part of himself, and he had felt it, there was nothing that
could change that truth.

 

 

Had she stopped breathing! Joel leaned closer... her eyes seemed so far
away and then they came back... she was looking at him again, and he could
see her smile at him through her eyes. He was old now; bent and grey. The
years had taken their toll, but in her heart she still saw him as he was
then, and now, and always; the dashing young man whose dreams and
aspirations were a very part of him; a very part of who you saw. He
trembled as he bent to kiss her, and as his lips touched hers she remembered
the first time......

 

 

 

 

Joel had stood before her father so tall, so strong, so brave, as he asked
permission to call upon Fiona. It might have been old fashioned but Joel
hoped someday to have daughters of his own, and he was only giving that
which he wished someday to receive. Fiona's father was grateful for the
gesture, and grateful for the chance to get to know and understand somewhat
of this young man who seemed so in love with his daughter. Generations may
come and go, but there is a link as imperceptible as a silken thread that
winds through us all; forward as well as back. The subjectiveness of
parents leaves only a small hope that any future son or daughter-in-law will
ever measure up to any parents expectations. Joel never had Fiona's parent'
s wholehearted acceptance in the beginning, but his actions merited their
approval.

They spent weeks and months together, going to dances, school activities,
social events. Often they had dinner, and sometimes games, at Fiona's home.
He wanted, and perhaps even needed, their acceptance. How could it be
otherwise; these strangers, to him, were the most important people in Fiona'
s life. How could he love her, and not care about the things she cared
about? How could he love her, and not want to love, and be loved, by those
who loved her? How could these things ever be if he never knew them; and how
could he ever know them if he never spent time with them, was never around
them? Although Joel did not know it he had won Fiona's heart at their first
meeting; he already had Fiona's approval, and her love. It was in the time
they spent together that Joel not only gained the approval of her parents,
and their love for him, as well; but a serious crush developed in Afton,
Fiona's younger sister, and Theron, Fiona's brother absolutely idolized him.

He wasn't just dating a girl, he was becoming a part of a family; a family
he was hoping to become a part of. So it happened after a seemingly long
time; he was walking her home after a dance; there he was, one minute being
silly and stupid, the next she was in his arms and his lips were on hers.
Then he was serious, "I'm sorry if you didn't like that. I've just wanted to
for so long.... ." His voice trailed off. "So strong and yet so weak....
is this the way all men are?" she thought. Then she pulled him near and
kissed him back the way she had planned hundreds of times before... but
never dared.

 

 

Her voice was weak, but pleasant as she whispered, "Your kisses always gave
me life." Her hand gave his a gentle squeeze, and then she rested back
again.

 

 

Fiona's wedding Day was like a dream. She knew that people were there but
they just seemed to be floating, and everything seemed to move so slowly;
but here she was repeating words that had been spoken for ages past. This
was the beginning of her "happily ever after;" but every dream comes to an
end. Hers ended slowly as the mundane crept in.

How could she ever know that this incredible man... this man who she all but
worshipped. be such an incredible dip! The inane to insane things that this
man would do..... and the things that he would say.... ! Sometimes he cut
her to the quick, and never know that he had done a thing. There had been
times when she had felt she could take no more... no more of this
denigration.... this absolute thoughtlessness! Sometimes he could not
comprehend what he had done. Yet still, dense as he was, when he finally
came to realize what he had done, or said, his absolute humility and
contriteness before her would sweep the anger from her heart as a flood of
water sweeps away all debris before it. How could she leave this man....
this vulgar, dense, thoughtless creature? He had entered in, and become a
part of her, a part of her she did not understand... but only feel..... and
every feeling within her bade her stay. His kiss had been upon her lips. A
kiss she could never turn from. He had given his heart to her... and she
knew it. She knew she held more power in her kindness, and her love, than
she would ever find in any other way. A power she sustained by simply being
loved, and loving in return. Through the years she had held him when he had
wept like a child; had heard his heartaches, his struggles, and his
confessions. Especially sweet to her were his confessions, confessions of
his love for her.

When Fiona had begun her marriage with Joel she was ecstatic. She thought
she had achieved the ultimate happiness. Sometimes she could still reach
back through time and touch those memories; she could still reach back and
touch a part of her that had once been; could still reach back and again
feel that euphoria.

 

 

Fiona opened her eyes and saw all those around her. Joel and their seven
children were all there, as were some of the grandchildren, and close
friends. The great grandchildren who were there looked on as well. The
newest member of the family, only a few months old, looked on in blank
incomprehension. While Fiona the youngest, a darling four year old, who had
only just been coming to know who her great-grandmother was, was trying to
smile with tears in her eyes. Fiona looked at them and spoke in a whisper
that only some of them could hear, "It is in you that life is everlasting;
outwardly in you, but inside of me as well; you will all live inside of me
forever. Although we may die our memories will last forever. Wherever I
am, there you will be also. My life has been encompassed in my love for
your father, and you; and in the love all of you have had for me. You have
come from me, from your father, and from our love. In deference to that
love that brought you forth, I beseech you, love one another even as we have
loved you." She looked on their faces, touched them with her heart, and
remembered once more..

 

 

Who stood with Fiona to taste the bitterness, the disappointments that had
been a part of her life? Children come at a price that only parents can
ever know. No child can ever know the pain within a mother's heart as she
feels the hurt of a scratch, a cut, or a heart-ache in a child. Nor can
they know that one's child remains one's child throughout all time. No
child can ever know the pain they cause in their rudeness and inconsiderate
nature. That is simply how children are, for the most part. There had been
a love of reciprocity with Joel. That love set their sails on their
lifelong Odyssey. Every new child's birth was joyous, like a ship coming to
land after a long sojourn at sea. But with each landing, after joy, there
was the struggles and the pain that must come with growth; and a parent
feels that pain, every step of the way. The children did not love Fiona as
Joel did, they loved Fiona and others, when it was convenient for them, hurt
others, when it was convenient for them, and only seemed to consider others,
when it was convenient for them. Fiona's greatest challenge had been to
teach her children maturity; to teach her children love. It was in Fiona's
struggles, failures, and heartaches, in doing this, that go beyond all words
that can be spoken, where she had gained a love that went deeper, a love
that far superceded that euphoria that had been her greatest happiness the
day that she had given herself to Joel.... body... heart ... and soul. With
every fight, with every struggle, with every pain that she had had to bear
Joel had been with the woman he loved, if not in body, then in spirit.
Fiona remembered back to that day when it had come to her, "Your struggles
with your children, your struggles with Joel, they are your struggles with
yourself."

 

 

Fiona opened her eyes. Her youngest son, Matthew, was by her side with his
youngest daughter of two. "Mom, I want little Talitha to remember you.
This is your grandma Talitha, I want you to remember her." Fiona looked at
the fair haired child and wondered if time would turn her hair dark as it
had done her father's long ago. She looked at her son and saw that her pain
and struggles had become handsome, strong, and good. "Matthew, you caused
me more grief than all the others growing up, you know. Yet I feel so close
to you. It was good having you for a son." Matthew's voice broke as he
whispered, "I love you Mom" Fiona turned her head and looked intently at
her grandchild. "Talitha, you listen to your Daddy and Mommy, because no
one loves you as much as they do, I know, because I am a mother" Fiona
gazed at the little girl and wondered what trials she would put her father
through, and how would her father know what to do.

 

 

How does anyone know that what they are doing is right? It comes at a
price that far to few seem willing to pay. Love and understanding do not
just happen; they are created by forces that seem ready to overpower and
destroy you. It is only by being stronger than that which is coming against
you that you can stand; but in the end your understanding will increase as
will your ability to love. Fiona remembered the night when Matthew was
born. It had been a hard labor but seeing him made it all worth while. How
can any mother love her new born baby and still have love left to give
others? He had grown, and she had grown even more to love this little
boy... this little man whose heart was hers.... who later in life tried to
stand before her as a lord and master..... yet here he was. a small and
frightened child, once more, who desperately needed his mother to hold and
comfort him; even as she was departing this life.

 

 

Fiona looked at those around her, and as she looked it was like she was
looking back on her life, as though it were a book... a good book... once
read..... but once read, pondered over.... with the best parts kept within
to be reread time and time again, as sweet and precious as life itself. Now
she was dieing... she had lived her life.... run the length..... And as she
looked back upon her book of life she was comforted. She had been a child,
and had savored that childhood. She had grown into a woman with all the
struggles and pains that go therewith... and had done it well. And as a
woman she had married a man she had loved with all her heart. It was true
that he had broken her heart countless times.... But she did not wish to
count them anymore than she wished to count the ocean of tears he had shed
for her. The mystery of men and women... how they need each other.... and
yet cannot seem to keep from hurting one another..... But..... She had
come to a point... and how she had was a mystery to her.... but she had come
to know inside herself... so very very deep within, that he loved her... and
that in everything he did there was naught in him to hurt her. His very
breath of life was dedicated to her and to her good.... as he saw it. It
wasn't what he was doing as much as his intent; what he was trying to do.
Her love for him had come to be serene at that point. It was no longer the
babbling stream full of splashes and sprays, gurgling and racing and turning
this way and that. It was deep and full, and as full and abiding as the
ocean itself. She had read once, perhaps many times, but it came back to
her now as she drew her last breaths... wheresoever thou art so there am
I......

She reached out and touched Joel. As he felt her touch he looked up through
tearstained eyes.... she pulled him toward her and as they embraced she
whispered, "I am always a part of you. Wheresoever thou art there also am
I." She gently kissed his lips, laid back, and then she was gone. As Joel
laid his head upon her and wept he thought he heard her whisper to him sweet
and kind..... a whisper that went through him and echoed throughout the
hollowness of his pained and anguished soul, yet somewhere in the distance
it filled him, giving back the wholeness to his life, " I am this day
married to thee.... for now... for always...... for all eternity."

 

 

 

 

Comments:

 

 

LeRoy: I tried doing a little fiction

Friend: have you read Tolstoy's "Family Happiness"?

LeRoy: no I haven't... is it similar?

Friend: no, it's BETTER! It's Tolstoy for god's sake! I think that if you
are
going to explore an artform, of any type, it is vital to know it's
history

LeRoy: What I meant by similar was... is there a resemblance... are they
alike in
some way. This is the first fiction I remember having ever done.

More comment by.

LeRoy: Thanks for your comments. In trying to understand what you were
saying, pondering, and then in trying to see if I agreed or disagreed with
what you had said I saw things i would otherwise have missed. Some of my
best thinking is done on paper, so I thought I would share my thoughts with
you.
What is an art form; and is it something to be studied, or is it
something that is felt; or is it, can it be, both? If it is something that
is felt, can studying bring out more of the feelings, or can study, a
rationalization, of said feelings, tend to stultify and deaden, or dull, the
individuals feelings, and thus their art?
Yes, I would agree that it is vital to understand what one is
doing, but what is being done? In art, I would think, only the artist truly
knows, if even that. I say that because feelings are elusive, and sometimes
hard to understand. To me, it is perfectly understandable to see, or
perceive, something, and feel the beauty and warmth thereof, and yet not
fully comprehend that which one is feeling.
What is my understanding of what I have written; what is it I
see. I see within Fiona the man I want, and hope, someday to be. I see the
vulgar, inconsiderate, and dense man that I am. I also see back into my
childhood where my consideration for others was pretty much nil, and I
definitely believe, in my childhood, I gave my mother the most difficulty.
The woman, Fiona, she is the woman I hope, believe, desire to be the woman
in my life. The feelings she has for Joel are the feelings I want the woman
in my life to have for me. The feelings of not wanting her to go, but at
the same time wanting to release her from her pain; that was something I
experienced with
my mother when she had pancriatitis. She was suffering intensely, and the
doctors only gave her a fifty-fifty chance to live.
To finish, Fiona is about me. It is about my hopes and
aspirations; my desires and indebtedness; my past and hopefully my future.
What would a study of anything do for me except to help me understand,
possibly, how to write what I am trying to say in a way that would be more
touching or convincing. And, if I have a style that is my own, that people
like, would a study of others writing actually enhance my writing, or is
there the possibility that if I tried to write like others it might actually
diffuse and deaden my own latent talent within me? I think there is the
possibility of both, depending on my perceptions and propensity. Only if I
have confidence that I, myself, truly have some talent of my own that has a
right to see the light of day would a study of others be beneficial; because
that study would be to see what I liked and what I did not like. In which
case my study might lead me to the conclusion that Tolstoy's works are less
liked by me than that which I shall produce. Beauty is in the eye of the
beholder. The question I suppose I should have asked is, "Do you see any
beauty in my work? Do you see any beauty in the story I have written of
Fiona?"

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