Microfiction #Friday Fictioneers: Remembrance

This 99 word story is for Rochelle’s Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt.

Photo courtesy © Janet Webb


My grandmother’s house was full of pretty and mysterious things, coloured glass, silver and brass, lace and slightly faded watercolours. There was never a speck of dust, and each pretty object sat in the same place, catching light in the same way every day. I envied that she was able to surround herself with such carefully chosen beauty with no clumsy, disrespectful brothers and sisters to disturb it. It was only later, after her death, that I recalled the way she would stare into the garden, seeing nothing of her pretty objects. All she had ever wanted was Granddad.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

80 thoughts on “Microfiction #Friday Fictioneers: Remembrance”

      1. Oh. Ditsy here. Yes. Needed a break and a refresh. Will be starting again next week. Had a bit of a hard month.
        Thanks for asking 🙂

      1. Indeed. In my years caring for the Elderly, I saw many times how they died within weeks of each other, not being able to live without their lifelong love.

      2. I can imagine that only too well. I think the only thing that kept my grandmother alive after Granddad died was having children young enough to be still dependent on her.

  1. This was beautiful, Jane. So poignant!
    We lost our dog two weeks ago, who I always talk about as a person and I know we’ll always have him as that missing member of the family, especially as our kids haven’t known a world without him in it.
    For many, perhaps the lost of their pet is greater than the loss of their spouse, but it did give me a shudder about what that is like. The finality of it all and all their things to remind you of them and having to make some decision about it all. It was hard enough to take off my dog’s collar.
    xx Rowena

    1. Loss is loss. One big difference I suppose is that when a person dies, we have much more complex reaction. There’s the guilt of all the things we didn’t say, the time we could have spent with them, the mean things we did say etc etc. With an animal it’s simple—we just miss them. I’m sorry for your trouble. A dog is a great friend to lose.

      1. Thanks very much, Jane. You’ve clarified that distinction well. The grief is starting to ease but he’ll always be a part of our family.
        xx Rowena

      2. He’s joined the ranks of all the other dead family and friends you’ve ever grieved over. It’s a wonderful notion that you’ll see them all again one day 🙂

    1. Thank you! I’m slightly distrustful of younger people with immaculately arranged homes. It smacks to me of having nothing else to do. For some old people I imagine it’s trying to hang onto the past.

    1. Thank you 🙂 No, I don’t think we can. Even with the person we feel we know better than anyone else, there are times when their feelings are completely obscure. We can all put up an impenetrable barrier if we want to.

      1. I think it’s only when we positively want to be understood that we let down the barriers. They are there naturally. We have to want to let someone in, otherwise we’re inscrutable.

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