Grief
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It had been hard to believe. One moment, Hoss was there, the next he was gone.
Tears had come instantly and denial finally gave way to belief. Organising the
funeral had kept their minds occupied and the numb pain resurfaced as they
watched the coffin being lowered into the ground.
People had come; more people than they had expected, although they knew Hoss was
well loved. No one was ashamed to show their grief that day and it was
comforting to know that the big man had been held in such regard.
But once that was over, they had to somehow pick up the pieces of their lives
and move on. Routine was a saviour. The horses in the barn still needed tending
and familiarity finally edged out the pain of tending to Chub.
But they had to move on from there. Routine was comforting, but could become a
trap. Going into the house, Joe looked at Ben and saw how old his father looked.
He knew the aching void in his own heart, and went over to his father. “Pa,” he
whispered.
Looking at his son, Ben saw the pain on his face and reached out instinctively
enfold the younger man in his arms, as he had done when he was a child. He
sought only to give comfort, but Joe had seen the same pain on his father’s face
and he, too, sought to comfort his parent, and the embrace was full of mutual
love and support.
“We have to go on,” Ben said, as they wiped their eyes once more. “Hoss will
come back and haunt us if we sit here by the fire and mourn.”
“I know,” Joe replied, smiling a watery smile at the thought. “Why don’t we ride
out and look at the herd?”
“Good idea,” Ben agreed. He didn’t want to, but he knew he had to pick up the
threads of his life as soon as he could, or he would never pick them up at all.
It was a thought facing the hands, but they were surprisingly tactful for a
bunch of mostly uneducated men, each murmuring something, but not forcing the
issue. Ben was not ashamed to mourn his son and he wiped away a stray tear. And
a short time later, he found himself laughing at something that happened.
Going into town was the next hurdle and Joe insisted that he and Ben go in
together. It was just as difficult as they had anticipated and Ben cringed each
time someone came over to speak. But then he discovered that it was much better
that people did come to talk to them. What really hurt were the people who
crossed over to avoid talking to them.
Watching Joe hauling the sacks of flour alone, Ben couldn’t resist a jibe. “Nice
to see you doing some work, son,” he commented and Joe looked at him, a smile
beginning.
“I always did let Hoss do all the work, didn’t I?” he agreed. “I always managed
to find something else to do, or carried the smaller things.” Joe laughed. “Hoss
complained, but he never made me do it, did he?”
“Never,” Ben laughed. “He spoiled you, Joe.”
“I know,” Joe replied and his lower lip suddenly quivered. But he didn’t hide
his face. He was proud to be able to grieve for his brother.
“We mustn’t ever be afraid to say his name,” Ben urged, suddenly serious. “If we
don’t talk about him, Joe, we’ll never come to terms with his loss. Promise me,
son. Promise me you won’t let your brother’s name be forgotten.”
“I promise,” Joe vowed. “He’s gone, but never forgotten.”
Hoss’ birthday was the first hurdle they had to cross. It was as difficult as
they had expected and many tears were shed. But life had to go on. Joe was busy
breaking and training a string of horses. Ben had to go up to the timber camps.
Then along came Christmas and it was almost unbearably poignant. “The firsts are
always the worst,” Ben told Joe, as they stood in front of the fire, hugging
each other. “The first birthdays, the first Christmas and the first anniversary.
Somehow, when those are all past, its not quite so hard.” Ben spoke from bitter
experience.
It was true, as Joe discovered for himself. He had little memory of the first
year after his mother’s death and so didn’t remember the milestones being as
hard. But the smiles came more naturally now, not feeling as though they were
completely false and Hoss’ name was not banished from conversation. There wasn’t
a slight pause after his name any more. They were learning to live without him.
And now a full year had passed and Joe stood by the grave and looked out over
the lake. This was the one place where his composure shredded and he shed tears.
And yet there was a peace there, too. “You won’t be forgotten,” Joe promised his
brother. “People will remember you, Hoss, I promise you.”
There would always be times when he remembered Hoss with tears, he knew, but
those would be more than compensated for by the times when he remembered Hoss
with laughter. Life had gone on, and in many ways Hoss was still a part of it.
The beloved dead, kept alive by memories.
The End