Exactly 14 Years Ago
"Hubert!"
"Huuuuubeeeeerrrrrt! It's time for dinner!"
The backyard offered no reply. Hubert's mother stormed through the screen door, a cloud of frustration in her wake.
"Hubert! What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm petting Celery," Hubert responded without lifting his gaze.
"Celery?"
On Hubert's lap lay a kitten. His coat was dark like midnight; his eyes glistened like emeralds. She could hear Celery's purr, serene yet vigorous, from several feet away. Her heart melted.
"Where did you find that?"
"I think he found me," Hubert replied. "I was just sitting underneath this tree and he climbed onto my lap. Can we keep him?"
His mother was conflicted. Hubert obviously had a strong affinity for this cat, and after the recent loss of his father, a feline companion might be just what the nine-year-old boy needed. On the other hand, the added expense and responsibility of a pet couldn't come at a worse time. Her head and her heart waged war for a moment. Her heart was narrowly victorious.
"Okay, we can keep...Celery."
--------------------
Today @ 12:43 P.M.
Warm blood kissed Hubert's cheek, gliding past his ear and careening down his jawline. There it met the stream of tears flowing around his quivering lips.
"Mother," he whispered.
A smile crept across his face.
--------------------
1 Month Ago
"Goodbye, Mother," Hubert said stoically. Her pale, rigid figure lay before him, fodder for the grave.
A firm hand clenched his shoulder.
"We're so sorry for your loss, Hubie," said a baritone voice, as genuine as it was cliche.
Hubert nodded in gratitude and found his seat in the front pew. His mother lay in an open coffin at the front of the small, country church she had attended for so many years. Her death was sudden, yet not unexpected. She had never been a healthy woman.
Beside Hubert sat Celery, his paws resting on Hubert's right leg. Hubert stroked him nervously. Having become adept at internalizing his pain, he choked down any tears that threatened to materialize.
The pastor eloquently eulogized Hubert's mother, his southern drawl accentuating his powerful voice. Hubert, dry-eyed, sat seemingly-unmoved by the powerful homily, but it was a charade. His body remained still, but his mind raced.
"Why her? Why now?" he asked himself--he asked God.
She was a saint. She had never hurt anyone. She had never been anything but a faithful wife, mother, daughter, and friend. She was a clean-living woman who had dedicated her life to others.
"Why, God?" he protested silently. "How could you do this to her? To me?"
The steady purr of his feline companion calmed him. He isolated its tone and tuned out all other noises: the hell-fire-and-brimstone preacher, the sporadic Amens, the gentle sobs--his own thoughts.
He sat.
As the rest of the congregation stood up and sat back down throughout the course of the service, he sat. As the preacher said the benediction, he sat. As people proceeded past the coffin, he sat.
"Hubert," his aunt whispered, nudging him cautiously. "Why don't you come up here and stand by your mom?"
He sat.
The mourners filed out of the crowded sanctuary, but still he sat. The preacher approached him.
"Mind if I sit beside you for a minute?" he asked warmly.
"I suppose that's fine. It's your church anyway," Hubert said, breaking from his stupor.
"Oh," the reverend replied with a chuckle, "this ain't my church! It's God's church!" He sat down beside Hubert with a sigh. "Your mom was a good lady," he said.
"The best," Hubert said.
"You're right, son," the preacher agreed. "Now, I know you don't have much family anymore, but you're family to us here."
"I appreciate that."
"If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."
Hubert had heard it all before. He had heard the promises. He had heard the well-wishes. He had heard the platitudes from so many genuine souls who were awkwardly trying to comfort the bereaved.
"Let us know if you need anything..."
"We're here for you..."
"Don't hesitate to call..."
A month later, they're all be back to their lives and their promises are forgotten.
"Thanks," Hubert said to the endearing preacher. "It means a lot."
Hubert didn't hold it against them. It wasn't his fault.
"If you ever get lonely..."
"Thanks. I will."
He didn't need them anyway. As a widow's only child, he had some experience keeping himself occupied. He would figure this out all by himself, just like he always had.
--------------------
Two Weeks Ago
"Don't stare at me like that," Hubert said.
Celery lay on the bathroom floor, his eyes trained on his bewildered master. Hubert stood at the sink, an empty a bottle in his hand. He wasn't sure why the doctor had prescribed his mother this particular drug, but he was confident that consuming the entire bottle would have adverse affects.
"Well, my old friend," he said, "thanks for always being there."
He collapsed to the floor, his hand still firmly grasping the pill bottle.
Celery stood up and sauntered over to his incapacitated owner. He nudged at Hubert's hand with his cold nose. He gently licked the fingers that held the bottle, but there was no response. He meowed loudly and began to gnaw on Hubert's hand until his hold on the bottle relaxed. At last the bottle bounced on the floor and Hubert began to stroke Celery.
"Thank you, buddy," he said.
He emptied the contents of his stomach onto the bathroom floor.
--------------------
Approximately 4 Months Ago
"Hubert, please don't let the cat sit on the table."
Hubert glared at his mother as he moved Celery to the chair next to his own. "Don't mind her," he whispered into Celery's bristling ear. His mother rolled her eyes and continued the conversation.
"So, how is your new job going, honey?" she inquired.
"Well," he said, pausing to choke down a bite of meatloaf, "it's awful."
"Oh, yeah?" she replied, taking a sip from her iced tea.
"Yeah."
Hubert's mother waited a few moments.
"Well...do you care to discuss why? Or did you just decide not to like it?"
"Well, first of all," Hubert said, "they won't let me bring Celery to work with me."
"The food service industry does frown upon pets in the work place. Come to think, I don't know of too many jobs that let you bring your cat into work with you."
"Maybe you're right, but it still sucks. Besides, the manager is always telling me what to do!"
"Wait!" his mother said. "Your boss is trying to tell you what to do?"
Hubert responded only with an expression of annoyance.
"I know I joke about it, but this is really important," she continued. "I'm not going to be around forever. You need to get out there and get your feet under you."
"No, Mother," he said affectionately, "you have to live forever!"
"I'm serious, honey. I need to know that you will be okay when God..." She caught a tear that was trying to come out. "...when God takes me home."
"Mother?"
"Did you find an apartment?"
"Mother?"
"Did you? I saw a 'For Rent' sign on Maple St. It looked affordable."
"What aren't you telling me?" Hubert insisted.
She paused and collected herself.
"I...I saw Dr. Kudrow today," she said.
"And?"
"I've been having this pain in my side for a few months. I didn't think anything of it, but it just never went away."
Hubert's fork dropped from his shaking hand.
"It's not good, Hubie."
--------------------
Approximately 15 Years Ago
"Mother, when is Dad going to be home?"
She glanced towards the clock on the kitchen wall.
"Oh, my! I didn't realize it had gotten so late," she said. "I'll call his office and see what's up. I'm sure he had to work late."
As she moved towards the phone, it began to ring. She didn't recognize the number.
"Hello, McCormick residence," she answered politely.
"...this is she..."
"...an accident?"
The color drained from her face. The life drained from her eyes. She looked over at Hubert with pity in her eyes.
"I'll be right down, officer. Thank you for calling."
She calmly hung up the phone and turned to her son. "We need to go," she said.
Hubert was more aware than his mother hoped. Her efforts to conceal her tears were unsuccessful as they rode to her sister's house in her '89 Corsica. Having arrived, he calmly settled in for the night. He overheard them talking.
Amidst the sobs he heard, "I'm not sure how I'm going to tell him."
She didn't have to.
--------------------
Today @ 12:37
"You didn't take your pills, did you, Hubie? Or, perhaps you took too many?" Celery said from the passenger seat.
"Why would you say that?"
"You're talking to me again, and I'm actually responding."
"Oh, well, you're right. I haven't taken them for a couple of weeks," Hubert confirmed. He flipped on his windshield wipers to brush aside the snow that was now falling heavily.
"So, where are we going, Hubie?"
"We're just going for a drive."
"Are you supposed to be driving right now?" Celery asked.
"Don't worry about it. We'll be fine."
"I'm not worried about myself. I've got nine lives," Celery said coyly. "I'm a little worried about you though."
"I said," said Hubert, raising his voice, "we'll be fine!"
As the words left his lips, a doe shot across the road in front of the inattentive driver. He frantically jerked the wheel to the right, triggering a tailspin and sending the vehicle into oncoming traffic. They finally came to a stop, upside down and in a ditch.
Warm blood kissed Hubert's cheek, gliding past his ear and careening down his jawline. There it met the stream of tears flowing around his quivering lips.
"Mother," he whispered.
A smile crept across his face.
"Hubert!"
"Huuuuubeeeeerrrrrt! It's time for dinner!"
The backyard offered no reply. Hubert's mother stormed through the screen door, a cloud of frustration in her wake.
"Hubert! What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm petting Celery," Hubert responded without lifting his gaze.
"Celery?"
On Hubert's lap lay a kitten. His coat was dark like midnight; his eyes glistened like emeralds. She could hear Celery's purr, serene yet vigorous, from several feet away. Her heart melted.
"Where did you find that?"
"I think he found me," Hubert replied. "I was just sitting underneath this tree and he climbed onto my lap. Can we keep him?"
His mother was conflicted. Hubert obviously had a strong affinity for this cat, and after the recent loss of his father, a feline companion might be just what the nine-year-old boy needed. On the other hand, the added expense and responsibility of a pet couldn't come at a worse time. Her head and her heart waged war for a moment. Her heart was narrowly victorious.
"Okay, we can keep...Celery."
--------------------
Today @ 12:43 P.M.
Warm blood kissed Hubert's cheek, gliding past his ear and careening down his jawline. There it met the stream of tears flowing around his quivering lips.
"Mother," he whispered.
A smile crept across his face.
--------------------
1 Month Ago
"Goodbye, Mother," Hubert said stoically. Her pale, rigid figure lay before him, fodder for the grave.
A firm hand clenched his shoulder.
"We're so sorry for your loss, Hubie," said a baritone voice, as genuine as it was cliche.
Hubert nodded in gratitude and found his seat in the front pew. His mother lay in an open coffin at the front of the small, country church she had attended for so many years. Her death was sudden, yet not unexpected. She had never been a healthy woman.
Beside Hubert sat Celery, his paws resting on Hubert's right leg. Hubert stroked him nervously. Having become adept at internalizing his pain, he choked down any tears that threatened to materialize.
The pastor eloquently eulogized Hubert's mother, his southern drawl accentuating his powerful voice. Hubert, dry-eyed, sat seemingly-unmoved by the powerful homily, but it was a charade. His body remained still, but his mind raced.
"Why her? Why now?" he asked himself--he asked God.
She was a saint. She had never hurt anyone. She had never been anything but a faithful wife, mother, daughter, and friend. She was a clean-living woman who had dedicated her life to others.
"Why, God?" he protested silently. "How could you do this to her? To me?"
The steady purr of his feline companion calmed him. He isolated its tone and tuned out all other noises: the hell-fire-and-brimstone preacher, the sporadic Amens, the gentle sobs--his own thoughts.
He sat.
As the rest of the congregation stood up and sat back down throughout the course of the service, he sat. As the preacher said the benediction, he sat. As people proceeded past the coffin, he sat.
"Hubert," his aunt whispered, nudging him cautiously. "Why don't you come up here and stand by your mom?"
He sat.
The mourners filed out of the crowded sanctuary, but still he sat. The preacher approached him.
"Mind if I sit beside you for a minute?" he asked warmly.
"I suppose that's fine. It's your church anyway," Hubert said, breaking from his stupor.
"Oh," the reverend replied with a chuckle, "this ain't my church! It's God's church!" He sat down beside Hubert with a sigh. "Your mom was a good lady," he said.
"The best," Hubert said.
"You're right, son," the preacher agreed. "Now, I know you don't have much family anymore, but you're family to us here."
"I appreciate that."
"If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."
Hubert had heard it all before. He had heard the promises. He had heard the well-wishes. He had heard the platitudes from so many genuine souls who were awkwardly trying to comfort the bereaved.
"Let us know if you need anything..."
"We're here for you..."
"Don't hesitate to call..."
A month later, they're all be back to their lives and their promises are forgotten.
"Thanks," Hubert said to the endearing preacher. "It means a lot."
Hubert didn't hold it against them. It wasn't his fault.
"If you ever get lonely..."
"Thanks. I will."
He didn't need them anyway. As a widow's only child, he had some experience keeping himself occupied. He would figure this out all by himself, just like he always had.
--------------------
Two Weeks Ago
"Don't stare at me like that," Hubert said.
Celery lay on the bathroom floor, his eyes trained on his bewildered master. Hubert stood at the sink, an empty a bottle in his hand. He wasn't sure why the doctor had prescribed his mother this particular drug, but he was confident that consuming the entire bottle would have adverse affects.
"Well, my old friend," he said, "thanks for always being there."
He collapsed to the floor, his hand still firmly grasping the pill bottle.
Celery stood up and sauntered over to his incapacitated owner. He nudged at Hubert's hand with his cold nose. He gently licked the fingers that held the bottle, but there was no response. He meowed loudly and began to gnaw on Hubert's hand until his hold on the bottle relaxed. At last the bottle bounced on the floor and Hubert began to stroke Celery.
"Thank you, buddy," he said.
He emptied the contents of his stomach onto the bathroom floor.
--------------------
Approximately 4 Months Ago
"Hubert, please don't let the cat sit on the table."
Hubert glared at his mother as he moved Celery to the chair next to his own. "Don't mind her," he whispered into Celery's bristling ear. His mother rolled her eyes and continued the conversation.
"So, how is your new job going, honey?" she inquired.
"Well," he said, pausing to choke down a bite of meatloaf, "it's awful."
"Oh, yeah?" she replied, taking a sip from her iced tea.
"Yeah."
Hubert's mother waited a few moments.
"Well...do you care to discuss why? Or did you just decide not to like it?"
"Well, first of all," Hubert said, "they won't let me bring Celery to work with me."
"The food service industry does frown upon pets in the work place. Come to think, I don't know of too many jobs that let you bring your cat into work with you."
"Maybe you're right, but it still sucks. Besides, the manager is always telling me what to do!"
"Wait!" his mother said. "Your boss is trying to tell you what to do?"
Hubert responded only with an expression of annoyance.
"I know I joke about it, but this is really important," she continued. "I'm not going to be around forever. You need to get out there and get your feet under you."
"No, Mother," he said affectionately, "you have to live forever!"
"I'm serious, honey. I need to know that you will be okay when God..." She caught a tear that was trying to come out. "...when God takes me home."
"Mother?"
"Did you find an apartment?"
"Mother?"
"Did you? I saw a 'For Rent' sign on Maple St. It looked affordable."
"What aren't you telling me?" Hubert insisted.
She paused and collected herself.
"I...I saw Dr. Kudrow today," she said.
"And?"
"I've been having this pain in my side for a few months. I didn't think anything of it, but it just never went away."
Hubert's fork dropped from his shaking hand.
"It's not good, Hubie."
--------------------
Approximately 15 Years Ago
"Mother, when is Dad going to be home?"
She glanced towards the clock on the kitchen wall.
"Oh, my! I didn't realize it had gotten so late," she said. "I'll call his office and see what's up. I'm sure he had to work late."
As she moved towards the phone, it began to ring. She didn't recognize the number.
"Hello, McCormick residence," she answered politely.
"...this is she..."
"...an accident?"
The color drained from her face. The life drained from her eyes. She looked over at Hubert with pity in her eyes.
"I'll be right down, officer. Thank you for calling."
She calmly hung up the phone and turned to her son. "We need to go," she said.
Hubert was more aware than his mother hoped. Her efforts to conceal her tears were unsuccessful as they rode to her sister's house in her '89 Corsica. Having arrived, he calmly settled in for the night. He overheard them talking.
Amidst the sobs he heard, "I'm not sure how I'm going to tell him."
She didn't have to.
--------------------
Today @ 12:37
"You didn't take your pills, did you, Hubie? Or, perhaps you took too many?" Celery said from the passenger seat.
"Why would you say that?"
"You're talking to me again, and I'm actually responding."
"Oh, well, you're right. I haven't taken them for a couple of weeks," Hubert confirmed. He flipped on his windshield wipers to brush aside the snow that was now falling heavily.
"So, where are we going, Hubie?"
"We're just going for a drive."
"Are you supposed to be driving right now?" Celery asked.
"Don't worry about it. We'll be fine."
"I'm not worried about myself. I've got nine lives," Celery said coyly. "I'm a little worried about you though."
"I said," said Hubert, raising his voice, "we'll be fine!"
As the words left his lips, a doe shot across the road in front of the inattentive driver. He frantically jerked the wheel to the right, triggering a tailspin and sending the vehicle into oncoming traffic. They finally came to a stop, upside down and in a ditch.
Warm blood kissed Hubert's cheek, gliding past his ear and careening down his jawline. There it met the stream of tears flowing around his quivering lips.
"Mother," he whispered.
A smile crept across his face.
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