Agony

So picturesque was the Durney house and the scenery before it that onlookers felt as though nothing bad could ever happen there. 

The Durneys were a family of three — a pair of working parents and their angelic little son. So sweet was his face and so cherubic his temperament that Nature felt it to be an abomination for him to dwell anywhere but in Heaven. The Durneys, however, spent ten whole years without any knowledge of this.

The wind would whisper loving words to the treetops it caressed and miniature dust-storms would waltz silently for the watching fronds, and yet, the joy and peace of the Durney home lay undisturbed, much to the envy of their neighbours.

“Oh, they are the luckiest people living!” Mrs. Rahn would exclaim, observing the Durney homestead as she did her dishes. “Have you seen their darling little boy? He’s a constant source of pride to them!”

And yes, little Tuval certainly made his mother proud. This sensitive little boy had the soul of a ripened poet trapped inside his small frame. He saw vivid beauty in the most commonplace of sunsets and his mind would soar high and free with every breath of life he drew in. He took whatever he saw and created poetry with colours. Perhaps, deep down he felt the insistent pull of life calling upon his soul to live deeply in the moments it could stay earthbound. It is a pull that so many of us, jaded by the harshness of life, have become impervious to. Yet, for Tuval, it was what let bright wide eyes stare out in wonder and delight at what they saw everyday.

“Come now, Tuval,” his mother would coax, “You must show me what you painted today!”

The boy, brimming with the modesty becoming of a bashful bride, would lower his eyes and curl his lower lip before shyly pulling out his latest masterpiece. His mother would smile widely at him, and this small symbol of motherly commendation would be enough inspiration for another day.

Leaves would change their colours and their abode, from branches to a dusty ground, and Tuval would paint their changing expressions for his beloved mother.

However, Nature preys upon the innocent, and none can save such from its unyielding grasp. Tuval Durney had not long before Nature added his soul to its collection.

It broke his parents’ hearts, especially his mother’s. A child can know only so much love, but with Time snatching the hours away, Tuval’s parents showered an anguished burning love that only a soul smoldering with sorrow could understand.

Raindrops worked their magic weaving coloured lines across the sky. Sunlight filtered through leaves making little rivulets shimmer and dance. Spectacular sunsets graced the evening horizon. Birds flew back and forth, chirping with the urgency of life — the life that cancer stole from Tuval. And the boy, who loved the world more than the world could ever love him, was too weak to hold a brush.

His mother sat by him through those long dark hours. She would cradle his frail frame and hold his head against her heart, wishing desperately that there was something she could do to lessen his pain. Sometimes, when Tuval’s breathing evened out, she would let a tear or two slip through her tight defence. The time she had to shower a mother’s love upon her precious child was limited and so she would spend all of what she was given filling his days with the sweetness she had hoped to endow all her life.

Night had fallen and the darkness had surprised them with its early arrival. The soft but still audible beating of Tuval’s heart was the only sound that could be heard. Mrs. Durney had been resting against Tuval’s bed, when she was suddenly stirred into speaking.

Tuval had awoken and was staring intently at her. The child’s body, already being devoured from within had taken further beating from all the strong medicines and futile surgeries. There was a turn for the worse that evening and his father had gone off in search of the nearest doctor.

“Mother?” he asked.

“Yes, my love? Is there something I can do?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly.

“Tell me, darling!”

“I’m ... scared. Hold my hand please? I think — I think it’s time.”

The dawn found Mrs. Durney standing near their boundary gate, staring blankly through tearless eyes. It was here that Mrs. Rahn found her when she stepped out for her morning walk.

“Lara! What happened?” she asked, worriedly. “Is Roy back yet?”

“My baby... my baby...” was all Mrs. Durney could murmur.