The candle's flame reflected off the glass of her bifocals, and the baritone voice of Sinatra sang from the record player. She tuned it very loudly so that she could hear every word thorough her half-deaf ears.
The table before her was set for two; a pair of wineglasses was filled with Chablis and set on the right side of clean crystal platters, barren of food. Eleanor's glass was almost empty. She swallowed the last drops and poured another with trembling hands. It overflowed the brim. She had been waiting all night for her husband, Thomas. Sadly, Eleanor did not realize that her only love had passed away twenty years before this night.
The deep pitch of Sinatra's voice resounded through the small dining room. Eleanor's eyes squeezed shut, and her mind wandered. She flashed from one memory to the next, in a slide presentation that showcased their life together.
She first remembered him in the jean overalls he'd worn when he'd come to work on her father's farm. He had sun-kissed blonde hair that hung over his eyes as if to shield them from summer's glare. One sweltering day, the noon heat was almost unbearable. She had taken a tall glass of lemonade out to him. As their fingers touched, a young love, pure and innocent, began.
Soon, the sweet love of children had blossomed into the devotion of young adults. She saw their first kiss replayed a hundred times in her mind. If only she could feel the softness of his lips again...
Five years passed in her mind's time. She was standing before the mirror, clad in a wedding dress that made her feel like Cinderella. Her honey-brown locks were curled into perfect ringlets. She remembered walking down the church aisle on a path of rose petals. She stood before the congregation, in the eyes of her family and her God, and vowed, "'till death do we part." It was a promise that she kept until the day he passed away.
She had awoken to the light of a thousand sunbeams cascading through her windowpane. Reaching for her husband's hand, she kissed each fingertip. He did not rise. She nudged him gently, and still, he did not open his eyes. It was then that she knew he was gone, and that she would spend the rest of her life alone.
"I did it my way... I did it my way... I did it my way..."
The skipping of the record shattered Eleanor's memories. Her eyes shifted about the darkened room. The tall white candle on the table had burned down to a stub. Finally, she realized that the only man she'd ever loved was truly gone.
Minutes later, the back doorknob turned slowly. For a moment, hope returned. "Thomas!" the old woman cried in her weak form of exultation. "It's you! It's really you! I knew that you'd come back for me, Tommy... I knew that you couldn't leave the lady you loved..."
The door opened, revealing a young woman with a brown paper grocery bag under each arm. She looked at the old woman, whose hopefulness had faded revealing wrinkled creases as the only haunting evidence that a smile had once been there. The girl had ordinary features, yet the glow of her ivory skin made her beautiful.
Her young face creased with concern, she dropped the bags on the counter and ran to the lady's side.
"Grandmother! Are you okay? I just left you alone for a few minutes... what happened to you?"
The old lady just smiled. Her mind had decayed, and she had lost all will to live. A deep sadness captured her heart, and she sat, immobile, and stared at her granddaughter.
"Let's get you into bed, Grandma. You'll feel better once you sleep, I promise." The granddaughter could hear the hollow tone that echoed in her own words. "Here, let me help you..."
Leaning on her daughter's arm, Eleanor hobbled to her bed. She laid back against the pillow, and her granddaughter pulled the blankets up around her shoulders. "I love you, Grandma," she whispered, as she kissed her forehead softly. Eleanor's eyes fluttered, then closed shut. In her mind, she was with her husband once again. She fell into a deep sleep, from which she would never awaken.
