Bench

 He walked up to the bench and sat down. It was the same bench he always sat down at, because in times of turmoil, why change what’s comfortable? Hearts break and love ends but a bench is a bench and it might just be the one thing that isn’t being taken from him. That’s an exaggeration and he knew it, but that doesn’t change anything. When you lose what clears the clouds away, you’re entitled to getting lost in the gloom. The clouds are black and the gloom came with it, so where else are you meant to go? Affirmations like those powered him through the misery and got him to his bench. The bench will make things better.

It really is just a bench. A sturdy, old thing— dedicated to a man he never met in a park he would normally never visit. Westview park was in the west of the city (as the name suggests) and he lived in the east. Still though, it was a nice view in the west and the bench is the best. The bench was ordinary, as far as a bench goes. Like all the special things in his and every other person's life, though, it wasn’t the thing itself. It was what the bench meant. The bench is where he sat with his grandfather on their final outing before the cancer kept him homebound. The bench was where he slept the night he drank too much and couldn’t find his way home. It was where he came when he was stressed and the world got too much. Now, though, it was the bench he met her at.

It was naive, really, to think the place that spurned their relationship’s genesis was the right place to see it off. He had hoped it would provide a level of closure that would make ‘I just don’t love you anymore’ sting a little less. He was allergic to bees, wasps and most things creepy and/or crawly. However, he would happily face the fury of a hive before hearing those words again. An epi-pen would provide his rescue from such an encounter, for the most part. As far as he knew, though, they did not make epi-pens for a broken heart. Even if they did, there wasn’t a pharmacy around for at least a mile. The emotional comfort offered by a place he usually felt at peace would have to do.

It didn't, though. Not how he wanted it to. The breeze wafting past his ears and the ducks squawking around the pond did not offer clarity. Remembering the times he sat here with loved ones and discussed the meaning of life didn’t give him the same warm feeling of safety it did then. It just reminded him of the fact that some of those people are gone and the ones who aren’t may as well be— they are as inaccessible to him as the dead. Melancholy was his only company.

Time passed, yet the aforementioned melancholy stayed. He found it provided more comfort than its absence would, though. Sadness is a nasty feeling, but it is honest. It made him realise, though, that feeling bad was not unfamiliar. He was starting to recall the fact that this is not the first time he has felt so miserable since their romance bloomed. Days he remembered as awkward and uneventful revealed themselves to be bitter and toxic. Love is, without question, the greatest thing in the world. Naysayers just aren’t doing it right. Unless, of course, the naysayers are aromantic. Their lives are valid, just not the target of his angst. He was learning, though. That love wasn’t just great. Love was unrelenting. No matter what, love was unrelenting. Now, though, he was told it wasn’t there anymore. He was catching up to the reality of this, now they were apart.

The bench was, as it always was and will be, just a bench. It was sturdy and old and dedicated to a man he never knew. It remained, in addition, a stalwart friend to the man. It gave him space and a place to be him. It let him grieve when he needed to grieve, rest when he needed to rest and be when all he needed was to just be. Simplicity is terrifying when you mistake it for complacency. Eventfulness is only fun when they’re events you want to attend. The world turns and you will love again. This man learned from a bench. My wife, whilst not an inanimate object, taught me just the same. 

~~~

Sometimes, you have to just do what you’re meant to do. Even if you aren’t doing it particularly well.