The Barn

 He wrenches open the door to the barn and forces his way inside. Once in the dark he stops. The door slams itself shut but even the noise fails to move him. Listening silently, small sobs break the gloom as if the tears were trying to drive their way out. He violently wipes his nose with his sleeve and stares up into the loft.

The setting sun is pouring in, covering the hay up there in a golden glow. Almost iridescent it gives off a peaceful aura, asking someone to dive into it. ‘He would love it.’ The man looks away from the sight, the tears straining themselves harder. 

He falls to his knees in his good pants, ignoring the manure spread on the floor. Covering his face in his hands he can no longer stop the sobs from coming and he no longer cares who hears him. The pride he felt gone. The dreams he had, dust. There was nothing left for him now. He would never get it back.

Raising his head he saw the rope curled up on the wall. Tied in a noose for pulling the cattle in, it was ready and so easy to use. One quick jerk and it would be all over. He would be free of this pain that filled his heart. The good book says that it was a sin to even think about it but anything would be better than living with this. This emptiness.

“Papa, where are you?” He turns his head at the sound of his wife. She is so much stronger than he ever was. She can handle this as well, he knew she would get over it. Part of him rebells against the evil filling his mind. ‘No, don’t do it.’ he told himself but his hand still reaches out for the rope. Over the cross beam and tied he could jump from that place. His place.

“No!” He forces his hand back and hugs himself tighter, shutting his eyes against all the sights in the barn. There were too many memories here. Too much of him left. Why’d he come here? The carving in the stairs he did when he was bored. The old books tossed in the corner. The change of clothes that still held his scent even after all this time. Maybe that was it. He needed those things, those memories now more than ever.

“Papa, where are you?” It was time to make a choice.

“In here Mother.” He couldn’t keep her out any longer. He hears her open the door and close it behind her without a word. She knees down in her Sunday dress, spreading the manure around more and places her arms around him, drawing his grey head to her chest. Cradling him like she did his son all those years ago. The son who would never be coming back. 

“I know. Let it all out.” He cries there like he never cried before. Cries for the son he loved so much and lost overseas in the stupid war. Cries for the words he never said to him but wished he had. She never said a word and just rocked him until he is spent. When he is done he stands up, goes to the horse trough and splashes his face with water.

“Time to go back Mother. It’s not right to get our clothes this dirty. We still have work to do.” His mask back and as strong as ever. She just nods her head and stands up. She knew their guests were waiting and they still had to say goodbye to their boy. She opens the door and watches him go out, head high, proud of his boy's sacrifice. 

However he couldn’t hide from her how much it hurt to keep that face on. She knew him best and she knew how close she came to losing him. Before she closes the door she takes the rope down from the wall and hides it under the trough. Later she would bury it to remove all the temptation. For now it was safer out of sight. She closes the door to the barn and goes to find her husband. They have a funeral to finish.