Mary Michie edged along an unknown road in the dark. She couldn’t see three feet in front of her but even if she could, her tears would have blinded her.
“Awkward sod would have to die during the bloody black-out”
Her heart was broken.
They’d not even offered her a bed at the hospital even though it was the middle of the night. Just sent her on her way, a grieving woman just widowed.
She wouldn’t have taken them up on such an offer anyway, she was too upset to sleep. The seventeen mile walk from the hospital in Erskine to Bridgeton in the east end of Glasgow was actually good for her in a way. It gave her time to think about her predicament, terrifying though it may be. Though, she could have done without the black, bleak darkness.
Gangrene they’d said, from an old wound suffered in the last fiasco. Lost the lower part of a leg. Her lovely man had let her children and nieces play with his wooden leg – made a big joke out of it. Finally succumbed to an injury from the first war in the midst of a second. She’d held his hand as he died. Said ‘goodbye my lovely man’. Now she had to harden her heart and look after their children.
How lonely life can be sometimes. Lonely and so, so tough. Experiences either shape you or destroy you, she thought. She had no option but to adapt.
She was glad he was out of his pain; the agonies and indignities at the end. She was also glad she could at least be with him at the end. They’d meant so much to each other.
She stumbled home to her children in the darkness. She had much to suffer yet, and she could only hope that out of darkness came some shred of light.
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