The Bench He Never Sat on

 

 Not a random bench, the actual bench.

I bought a bench before my step father died. I put it under a tree, it was to be a place I could talk to him on, to sit with, to get angry at him, to watch him in his own thoughts holding a cup of char, maybe admiring my well tendered garden, maybe even to get to know him more and me better.

The weathered bench is now paper thin and decayed and after 11 years under the tree it will soon be gone. I will have at least, my false made up memories of watching my father being quiet and reflective on that bench, he always preferred that to looking into my ever longing eyes that waited for the hug that never happened.

So I'm happy he was happy on my bench he never sat on. in a garden he never visited, under the tree. in the sun. enjoying a cup of char...

 

I have now bought a new bench because I'm not letting you go...

 

Note: "A cup of char" though little used was/is a term used for a cup of tea in the east end of London, filtered down from the 19th century Chinese area of Limehouse docks. I heard it often and my stepdad a limerick man used it a lot. I use it occasionally but with quizzical looks!