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Healing Grief

It was so dark, Ben Cartwright could not see his hand in front of his face. The weather had been treacherous lately and the sky showed no intention of surrendering its ominous cloud cover any time soon. He loosened his shirt at the neck and pulled it away from his body tugging it from his pants in his desperation to feel the cool night air on his chest. These summer storms made the air so thick and balmy, one could not stand to be in his own skin at times let alone a sticky shirt.

As he let the wrinkled grey cotton dangle open at his sides he tilted his head slightly back and let out a long sigh of relief. He and his sons had worked very hard all day and everyone was asleep at dusk, but Ben needed some time alone before he would be ready for slumber and he was grateful for the silence and the solitude.

Pacing back and forth a time or two in the dimly lit room, he found himself lost in his thoughts but he could find no comfort there. He lifted the candle to his face, cupped his hand around the back of it and softly blew extinguishing its glow and leaving him alone in the dark. Cautiously, he reached forward and set it on the mantle. With one hand on the stones of the fireplace, he moved slowly as he felt his way towards the window and sat in his chair there. He tilted the chair back on its rear legs and lifted his booted feet up onto the windowsill thoughtfully ackowledging that he could see nothing at all. Ben Cartwright shook his head slightly and chuckled softly uable to ignore the fact that he had, somewhere along the line, become a creature of habit.

As he gazed into the blackness, he tried to recall if it had been four or five nights since he had seen the light of the moon or the twinkling of the stars gracing the heavens over the Ponderosa.

He recalled the stories his sons had told him earlier about Carlos - how he had been there for them. Oh, how sorely he missed his friend. Carlos Rivera de Vega... A proud man. A brother. A friend.

As he remembered Carlos and the day he so selflessly gave his life, Ben winced and closed his eyes tightly. He brought his right hand to his face. With his thumb and forefinger he rubbed his eyes then held for a moment to sequester the moisture that so desperately wanted to escape. Again, he looked out at the darkness - almost as though he were staring at something. “Carlos…" he whispered softly, "how I miss you, my friend.”

As the memories of Carlos assailed him, Ben became overwhelmed with grief. He gave in to the weight of the burden and succumbed to the lonliness he had been feeling. In those moments alone in the dark, he allowed himself the luxury, however brief, of living in the past just for toinight, just one more time. For him, it was almost as though Carlos was right there... but it was only in his mind. ‘I miss your advice. I miss your knowledge. I miss your partnership – especially when I don’t know what to do. I wish I could discuss things with you the way we used to…' Ben smiled slightly as his thoughts lightened, 'I even miss your temper and your constant insistance that tradition be honored at any cost.’

What comfort.

Memories.

Ben lifted one side of his mouth and rolled his eyes as he recalled the day when he and his dear friend had come to blows over Carlos' precious 'tradition'.


To be continued...