Returning to Life
Karen had not visited her sons flat for a long time. She didnt want to, she felt she could not. The tears had long since dried up; the grief had settled into a dull, constant ache and a sense of hopelessness.
James was twentyeight, never complained about his health, had graduated from university, held a steady job, went to the gym and was dating a girl. Two months ago he fell asleep and never woke.
Karen divorced her husband when James was six and she was thirty. The reason was simpleinfidelity, more than once. He stopped paying child support and disappeared. James grew up without a father, aided by Karens parents. Suitors crossed her path over the years, but she never pursued another marriage.
She earned a living. At first she rented a small booth in a supermarket to run a tiny spectacles shop. As an ophthalmologist she later secured a loan, bought a proper premises and turned it into a respectable Optics with her own consulting room. She fitted lenses, gave advice and built a modest reputation.
Last year they bought a onebedroom flat for James on the same block where Karen lived. A modest renovation was completed; it was a place to live, if only for a short while.
Dust lay everywhere. Karen grabbed a cloth, moved the sofa and, from beneath, a phone slipped outJamess phone. She could not locate it, so she plugged it in to charge.
Back at home, tears welling, Karen scrolled through the pictures on the device: James at work, on holiday with friends, smiling with his girlfriend. She opened Viber and saw a message at the top from an old friend, Dennis. The photo attached showed a young woman with a little boy. The boys face was a deadriddle match to Jamess son, little Jimmy.
Remember when we hung out at Lenas New Years party back at university? She had a friend who was moving into the flat opposite hers. I ran into that friends kidhe looks just like your lad! Sent you a snap for old times sake, the message read, dated a week before the tragedy. It meant James had known about the child and never told Karen.
Dennis lived in Manchester, a fact Karen knew.
The next day, after work, she drove to the address. The boy ran after a cyclist and begged to have a go on the bike. Karen knelt and asked, Dont you have a bike of your own? He shook his head.
A young woman, about twentyone, approached. Her bright makeup clashed with her gentle features. Who are you? she asked.
I think Im his grandmother, Karen replied.
Im Blythe, his mother, the girl said, extending a hand.
Karen took them to a café. Blythe ordered icecream for the boyTommyand a coffee for herself. She explained that six years earlier she had left a small village in Yorkshire at seventeen to train as a seamstress. During the Christmas break, a friend, Lena, invited her to stay over. Lenas parents were away visiting relatives, and Lena was close with Dennis. He arrived to celebrate with his friend James. That night Blythe and James gave in to a brief affair. James left his number, promised to call, but never did.
When Blythe discovered she was pregnant, she called James herself. He was angry, told her to sort out her own contraception, and handed her money for an abortion. He demanded she disappear from his life forever. She never saw him again.
Blythe never finished her course; the hostel asked her to leave with the baby. Returning to her village was impossibleher mother had died years ago and her father and brother were heavy drinkers. She now rents a small room from an elderly widow, watches her child while she works, and has to hand over almost every penny she earns. A place in a decent nursery is out of reach. She works in a private dumpling shop, earning modest wages, but they manage.
The following day Karen helped move them into Jamess flat. A completely new chapter began for her.
Tommy was placed in a respectable private nursery. Karen found herself buying clothes for both Blythe and the boy, delighting in their needs. He reminded her of James in every wayeyes, gestures, even a stubborn streak.
Karen took Blythe under her wing. She taught her how to apply makeup tastefully, dress well, tend to herself, cook, keep the house tidyin short, everything a young mother should know.
One evening they sat together watching television. Tommy clutched Karens arm and whispered, Youre my favourite. In that instant Karen felt the emptiness that had haunted her for years melt away. The weight of grief no longer pressed down like a stone. She realised she had stepped back into a life that held room for joy, all because of that small, bright child.
Two years later, Karen and Blythe walked Tommy to his first day of primary school. Blythe now worked as Karens righthand in the optics shop, becoming indispensable. She had found a boyfriend who wanted something serious, and Karen, at fiftyfour, felt fine with the prospect of marriage. A longstanding friend encouraged her, and she thought, Why not? She was attractive, independent, with a healthy figure and a warm disposition.
The story shows that even after the deepest loss, opening ones heart to new connections can bring healing and purpose. Life may shift in unexpected ways, but the willingness to care for another can turn sorrow into a renewed sense of belonging.
