Remnants of a Life

Dscf3410John lived down at the bottom of the village. A decade and a half ago, his wife left him. John descended into gloom and agoraphobia. He shut himself away in his house, alone mostly, although for some years he had the company of a pustular dog that was only ever allowed out of the front door on a long rope, in order to crap on the footpath. He (John, that is) was discovered dead a few weeks ago, having fallen headlong down stairs.

Dscf3413Today a couple of vans arrived bearing several men who proceeded to dress in plastic overalls and blue rubber gloves. Two of the men, let’s call them Barry and Vern, joked as they walked down to John’s house – they were here to clean it out, and they weren’t particularly looking forward to it. Now, I’ve not seen beyond the front door, but I did notice that they put their hoods up before entering, which may give an indication as to what it might be like in there.

Dscf3415Six hours later, the total remnants of John’s life had been dumped out by the road to await removal. A cardboard box of shabby Christmas decorations on the top was a particularly wistful reminder of how normal his life must have been once. Have you ever considered what you might leave behind when you cock your clogs? What will your Barry and Vern joke about as they carry your remnants to the dump? Which particular item will be your shabby Christmas decoration?


About wombat37

A Yorkshireman in the green hills of Lancashire, UK Not a real wombat, obviously, or typing would become an issue. I do have short legs and a hairy nose, however. Oh, & a distinctive smell.

Posted on March 22, 2011, in Beyond the grave, Remnants. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. This broke my heart. I am so blessed with my children..grandchildren and now great grandchild. I know I am leaving behind a beautiful legacy…but this poor man? I can't get the thought of how his last years must have been.


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