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Crinkled leaves blew across the ground. Everything around us was slowly turning colors, the trees, the shrubs, the flowers. And yet against this dying rustic backdrop stood my girl, so full of life and tenacity. A woman whom I was proud as hell to call my own. I couldn’t wait to introduce her to everyone.
Voices from inside the house drew closer, and the click of a key in the lock had Kennedy standing to attention.
“Relax,” I said once again as the door swung open.
My great aunt Angelica—my grandfather’s youngest sister—greeted us at the door. “Connor, dear, come in.” As soon as we stepped into the foyer, my aunt pulled me into a hug.
“Aunt Angelica, how nice to see you.” I snuck a wink at Kennedy. She’d heard me complain about this old biddy numerous times.
When my aunt finally released me, she turned her attention to Kennedy. “You must be the friend we’ve heard so much about.”
“Girlfriend,” I corrected instantly, annoyed at the obvious snub.
My aunt’s lips flattened, and she stared down at Kennedy with glacial eyes.
Kennedy smiled and held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Without another word, my aunt turned and walked away. At the time, I attributed her snub to her uptight nature, but in hindsight, it seems more ominous.
“Come, Connor,” my aunt said as she walked away. “Don’t keep your grandfather waiting.”
I wasn’t surprised by her rudeness, and I had warned Kennedy about her on the drive here. “Did I mention I’m not that close to Aunt Angelica?” I had asked, chuckling.
Pursing her lips, Kennedy didn’t even crack a smile.
Out of my grandfather’s two sisters, it is Angelica we see the least. She’s a cantankerous old bat, extremely bossy, and quite opinionated.
I took Kennedy’s hand and led her inside my grandfather’s country estate. “Come, you’ve got to see something.”
The central hallway was vast and upon entry we were greeted by a large double staircase with a golden trim banister. It looked like something out of a museum with its polished marble finish and intricately carved pillars.
Kennedy’s jaw practically dropped. “Oh, my god, Connor. This is… it’s…”
“I know,” I said as I gave her arm a little tug. “It’s grossly over the top. But that’s not what I wanted you to see. Look at these paintings.”
I led Kennedy along the hallway, past an array of oil paintings dating back decades.
“Are these your grandparents?” Kennedy asked as we passed a gallery of portraits.
“Yes,” I said with pride while continuing down the corridor.
Oil canvasses of my grandfather and late grandmother lined the walls, each depicting them at a different stage of their life. The first painting we passed showed them shortly after they’d gotten married. My grandmother—a beautiful lady with crystal blue eyes and platinum blonde hair—was seated on a wooden chair, while my grandfather stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder. Whereas she looked straight ahead, he gazed down at his wife, love evident in his eyes.
They aged a little more with each canvas we passed, and it was as though we were traveling life’s journey along with them. Despite the inevitable passage of time, every pose was a carbon copy of its predecessor. My grandmother seated on the same chair, looking straight ahead, while my grandfather gazed down at her with love in his eyes.
As we came to the end of the long corridor, the display of paintings neared its end. By now, my grandmother looked to be in her early eighties. She was much thinner now, and her face had lost its youthful glow. Her thick platinum locks had lost their luster, giving way to a much shorter gray do. Her once blue eyes that shone so brightly with life had lost their sparkle.
That was the last painting of them together. In the final canvas, my grandfather stands alone, the chair beside him empty. It was the first time my grandfather faced forward, and I figured that was because it was too painful for him to look down at that empty chair. The love that was in his eyes had been replaced by sorrow.
“That’s the last picture my grandfather had painted.” It made me both happy and sad that a love so powerful could span many decades. Ultimately, someone always got left behind.
“That’s so sad,” Kennedy said. “He must have been devastated to lose her.”
I nodded. “When my grandmother died, she took a large piece of his heart with her. He hasn’t been the same since.”
I opened the door leading into the gardens, and out on the patio, my family gathered in small clusters. This was the first time we had all gotten together since my father passed away a few months prior, and although everyone was trying to remain upbeat, we were all very conscious that someone was missing.
“Come, let me introduce you,” I’d told her, taking Kennedy’s arm as we circulated amongst the small crowd.
