A Sequel to Kate's Chopin's "Story of an Hour”
By Vanisha Palanivel
He stood in the doorway of the tiny church, his feet unable to move him farther. Just then, Richards touched his back as if it was a shove to get his feet going again. The room was softly lit by candlelight and filled with flowers of many styles from family and few friends. The casket was draped with the deepest red roses and lined in shiny white satin. Even though it was cold outside, she was dressed in her favorite spring dress from three Easters ago. She always looked like she was in another world when she put that dress on, and because she was gone, Brently wanted to try to put some sort of life back in to her – even if it was make believe. He turned around and made his way to sit down before his knees gave out. The sight of her this way troubled him. There were so many things that were going to be different now, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to stand it. It was a thought that had crossed his mind much too often. What if the mistake identity of a man that was presumed to be him was never to be created? Would his wife still be alive and breathing? He always knew that she loved him, though just oblivious of the fact of how much.
There were many people crowded in the tiny chapel there to see his beloved wife. Alarming was the fact that there wasn’t anyone there that he did not know. It was troubling, and the more he pondered this thought, a little stream of light began to seep through the darkness of his mind. Could this be the only thing that was a representation of her life? As quickly as the illumination came, quicker did it fade away, her hands that made his life so comforting.
If only he knew, if only he knew the death of his wife wasn’t a death of agony and sorrow. Rather a death brought upon the immense joy by the unfortunate blunder.