The morning sunlight from Alistair Zumac’s wide window, overlooking the park, awoke him gently, pushing him out of his bed layered with sheets and comforters. He saw Everly’s side of the bed was empty. She was already up and ready like always. Mr. Zumac was a quiet man but suddenly reminded of his frail body as his hip twinged, rising. “Argh,” he let out a grunt. Yet he was generally content.
“Darling Alistair, come down for your coffee,” Everly’s gentle voice wafted up the stairs.
As he hobbled down the stairs, he pondered the thought of dying. He never feared it much; he was only curious. It became an interest as he got older and older because he got closer to it. Eventually, the day would come. Friends and family would grieve and feel sorrow, but they would learn to move on. He was more interested in what would happen after that day. Where would he go, or would his existence just cease?
After their coffee, the Zumacs went for their daily walk at Anderson Park. The train whistle blew as they walked on the paved path around the field where children were enjoying early morning soccer practices. On the weekends, they would play games, with no organization, only excited laughter. He used to be one of those kids. The field was littered with little imperfections from kids kicking the ground. Butterflies and leaves added spots of brightness to the sky like paint on a blank canvas getting ready to turn into a masterpiece. They headed to their tree, which they had named Silvia. The tree was planted in 1924 by Silvia Zumac, Mr. Zumac’s grandmother. She was a beautiful oak with branches extending high into the air, grasping at the sky’s colors to add to her bouquet of leaves. The ground surrounding her was covered in acorns, each with its unique hat and curvature of its bottom. Anderson Park was the reason they moved into their beautiful little home. The park connected them to their family, and city life was too busy for them alone without the kids. Every day, the scent of fresh air and the promise of Silvia lured them back out.
Routines could be chores for others, but for the two, it was a joy, a time to look forward to each day. Each day was the same, but there was comfort and peace in that.
January 21, 2019, this was Mr. Zumac’s saddest day. Everly would leave this world like any other. He knew that, but today, it seemed an impossible feat. He felt he could handle it but the enormity of the loss proved him wrong. He hoped she would go on to exist in places like the park and their home. She had passed peacefully, and the knowledge of that relaxed him. He always thought death would come easy, yet never considered how it might come when it happened to Everly. He always thought he would die first.
The pain followed him for days, which turned to weeks, which then became months. It was unbearable not hearing the sound of Everly tinkering in the kitchen or the smell of strong coffee making its way upstairs each morning. Days were a struggle without his Everly. The shift in his mood had also shifted his routine, and now he found himself enduring the way other people did. He hadn’t visited Anderson Park once since Everly had perished.
Four months later, he spotted Everly’s old walking shoes by the door, handcrafted by her best friend. Goat leather made the shoes soft yet strong, like her. He realized Everly would not have wanted this. She would have been sad when he died as well, but she would have made an optimistic step toward happiness. He was doing the opposite. Nature and the outside world would cheer him up, he was sure of it.
As soon as he stepped out onto the lush, spring grass, the world became exceptional again. Life was too short to be wasted in melancholy. He realized why his previous mindset was so spectacular.
Walking on the path to Silvia, he spotted a little boy climbing up and down a giant boulder, around the tree and over broken branches, specially laid out for the purpose. It was a custom obstacle course; it was his obstacle course. The boy’s mom called out: “Cosmo, we have to be home soon. Daddy is making his grilled cheese for lunch.”
“O.K., Mama, just a few more minutes.”
He rushed around a tree with its branches sprawled wide. Cosmo jumped and twisted, grabbing at the lowest hanging leaves. He wore overalls dotted with vivid pink and blue butterflies, and a shirt with sketched dinos. Mr. Zumac recalled how he had climbed that boulder and jumped for those same branches. He and his mom had nicknamed all the trees, and this one was Pinocchio for its extremely long branches.
Mr. Zumac kept along the path feeling lighter, upbeat, and refreshed after all these months. Cosmo approached him from behind. “Hi mister, do you want this leaf?” he asked shyly.
Mr. Zumac looked at the boy and the leaf. It was a beautiful oak leaf, dotted with specks that resembled stars scattered in space. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Mr. Zumac replied. “Thank you so much.”
Cosmo was smiling adorably. “You’re welcome, mister.”
Cosmo’s mom looked at him, a smile spread across her face. He scampered back to her, delighted, talking excitedly as they left the park hand in hand. Mr. Zumac looked over, remembering the days he and Everly would do the same, chatting endlessly, and caught himself grinning.