Flash fiction: “Grief”

I took another sip of my coffee before I gathered the courage to walk back into the room.

They were all sitting around the table, waiting for me to say something, waiting for me to do anything other than what I was doing.

What they didn’t know was that there was nothing for me to do, nothing I could say would make it better.

I just wanted them all to leave me alone. I wanted to grieve alone.

It wasn’t their fault. They where my family, they just wanted to help.

I guess I should be glad that all my children had gathered, even under these circumstances.

Some of them hadn’t spoken in years, and yet they managed to sit together. They managed to talk to each other without any yelling.

I couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

It had probably never happened before, and most likely it wouldn’t happen until it was my time to go.

My wife had passed away earlier in the day.


The illness had ravaged her body for a long time until this morning when she had finally let go.

I was glad she had.

I was glad that I had been there to tell her that it was ok.

We got thirty years together, thirty beautiful years.

It had been hard the last couple of weeks when she started getting genuinely ill.

The sickness works slowly at the start, but the closer the sufferer comes to their end the faster the illness works.

I was glad her suffering had ended.

I was glad that she was in a better place.

I only wished my children would let me grieve alone.

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