To Invent and Grieve

The sun shone less brightly that day for young Billy Idelson when he learned about death. He was 8 years old when his grandmother had passed away. It would be the first time he wore a suit and tie, and subsequently be the most memorable. Billy could remember going with his dad to the tailor. His head hung from his drooped down neck. Even if one were to put something in front of his burnt caramel eyes to look at, it would still look right through it.

Billy didn’t cry. He didn’t look sad nor did his face become familiar with the usual gloom that accompanies the death of a family member. During the funeral, his parents wrapped their arms around him knowing how close he was to his grandmother. Family members that he had never met introduced themselves for the first time. It was at this time that Billy learned there was a fine line between the words “stranger” and “family.”

“How long has he been in his room?” Billy’s mother, Sylvia, inquired. Upon arriving from the reception, the young boy shed his jacket on his way to his room and locked the door.

“It’s been about an hour,” responded Billy’s father, Chris.

“Poor thing,” Sylvia commented, “He and my mother were so close. He must be devastated.”

“Have you seen him cry since she passed?”

“Now that you mention it I don’t think I have.” A look of worry came over Sylvia’s eyes. “Should we be concerned that he hasn’t?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll be fine. We should give him his own space and let him grieve.”

“But that’s what I’m so concerned about, Chris. He’s never had to grieve before and I’m worried he doesn’t know how.”

“I’ll tell you what. Let’s give it some time and if he doesn’t show any improvement then we can call Dr. Bayles.”

A day had passed and Billy had yet to say a word. His parents presumed that he went straight to sleep and simply forgot to unlock the door. Hours passed. Dinner was nearly ready and Billy had yet to emerge from his room. There were no sounds of crying from within. It seemed he would repeat the same pattern of locking himself in solitude for the entire day until there was a click softly echoing through the short hallway.

It was the sound of the lock on the bedroom door and was accordingly followed by the turning of a doorknob and opening of the door. Light pitter patter of Billy’s feet rhythmically paced towards the living room where Chris was reading a book. The book was marked and put down when Chris realized his son was in the room. For the first time since his grandmother’s passing, Billy seemed to be looking at something; in this case, his father’s eyes.

“Hi, son,” Chris greeted, “Are you doing okay?” Billy didn’t utter a word but nodded in the affirmative. Sylvia walked in hearing her husband’s voice. She saw her son and knelt beside him. Fighting back the tears she gave her son a hug. Her intent was to comfort Billy, but instead Sylvia was the one who was reassured that everything was getting better.

Billy had stopped locking himself in his room partly to appease to his parents, partly for reasons unknown. Still, it would be days before Billy would utter a word. Whenever either parent would pass the door to his room, they would hear tinkering of toys. One day, curiosity overcame Chris who slowly opened the door to peek at his son’s clandestine doings. What he saw appeared to be Billy playing with his toys.

At that moment, Chris remembered a game that his son and mother-in-law would play. She was a grandmother that possessed a clairvoyant talent and often spoke of her grandson who was destined to be a great inventor. To bolster whatever gifts she saw in Billy, they would take his toys and pretend to invent great machines that would improve the world and the lives of those in it. That moment that Chris had stumbled upon was the first time Billy had played this game by himself.

After the fourth day, Dr. Bayles was called and convinced to visit the Idelson’s residence to assess the emotional state of the silent Billy. Chris and Sylvia stood patiently in the living room as the doctor attempted to get Billy to speak again.

“Billy?” Dr. Bayles hailed the young boy. “It’s me, Dr. Bayles. Do you remember me?”

Billy looked back and nodded thoughtfully in the affirmative.

“Do you mind if we talk? You can still play with your toys.”

Unbeknownst to Dr. Bayles, Billy was working on his latest invention.

“I understand that you were close to your grandmother. And I know you miss her very much, but there are two people in the living room that care very much for you; maybe even more than your grandmother. They’re worried about you. Did you know that? Do you know I’m talking about your mother and father?”

Billy respectfully turned his head towards the doctor and nodded gently before going back to tinkering with his latest gadget. The doctor, mainly out of curiosity as to what can steal away a young boy’s focus so intensely, peeked over the boy’s shoulders and saw what appeared to be a toy phone fashioned out of various construction toys. All of a sudden Billy stood up and walked out to the living room.

Chris and Sylvia took to their feet and hoped Billy would utter his first words since the funeral. Dr. Bayles followed behind Billy with just as much surprise on his face as Billy’s parents. Billy looked at the adults in the room and commanded their attention with such confidence Chris nearly shuddered. The young boy looked at each of the faces staring back at him. The corner of his mouth curled subtly into a smile when he saw his mother’s eyes veiled behind tears that had yet to roll down her cheeks.

“I’m going to miss grandma,” Billy finally said. Sylvia and Chris were overwhelmed with emotion as they rushed to their boy and smothered him with embraces and kisses. Dr. Bayles respectfully took a step back to let the Idelsons celebrate their familial bonds.

“Of course you are, my boy,” Chris replied, “We’re all going to miss her. We all loved her very much.”

“Yes, Billy,” Sylvia added, “But I hope you know, that your father and I love you just as much and we’re so glad to hear your voice again.”

“She said she’ll always be with me.” Billy started to cry uncontrollably. Chris put his arms around his son who buried his face into his shoulder.

“She will, son, she will,” Chris reassured, “Her body might not be here anymore, but she’s always with us in spirit.” Sylvia got up and hugged Dr. Bayles in gratitude. He responded that he doubts he did anything to warrant a thank you.

“I know,” Billy replied, “Mom? Dad? Do you remember when grandma would tell me that I had a gift?”

“My mother always called Billy her ‘little inventor,’” Sylvia said informing the doctor.

“And he is going to make a fine one at that!” Chris added.

“Grandma said I could use my gift to talk to her whenever I want,” Billy said, his smile growing. Dr. Bayles remembered how Billy’s latest invention resembled a telephone.

“And what did she tell you, son?” Sylvia asked with a smile and tears streaming down her cheeks.

“That she loves me,” Billy responded, “And she always will. She’s happy where she is now.” Dr. Bayles couldn’t help but smile but struggled to hide it as he felt intruding on a tender family moment.

“That sounds like something your grandma would say,” Chris said, smiling at the boy.

“She has something else to say,” Billy added. He walked over to his mother. “She wanted me to tell you that looked beautiful that day.”

“What day, honey?” Sylvia inquired.

“The day we buried her, mommy. She loved how you wore the broach she gave you when you were little but always hated. She said she was flattered when she saw you put it on that morning.” Sylvia was agape with shock. Her body froze and a chill darted down her spine.

“And, daddy?” Billy continued.

“Yes, Billy.”

“Grandma said that she knew you were the perfect man for mommy that night you drove eight hours to ask grandpa in person for permission to marry mommy.”

“How did you know about that, Billy? I never even told your mother about that.” Chris replied, confused.

“Perhaps I can shed some light here,” Dr. Bayles interjected. “Billy, would you mind showing us all your latest invention?” Billy smiled and ran to his room. The doctor continued to explain to Chris and Sylvia. “You told me that Billy was very close to his grandmother. Well, it seems that at one point in their relationship, she may have told Billy these stories and he just now recalled them as part of the grieving process.”

“There’s a problem with that explanation, Dr. Bayles,” Chris commented.

“What would that be?” Dr. Bayles asked.

“My mother,” Sylvia answered, “had Alzheimer’s Disease and she had long forgotten about that broach by the time Billy was born.” The look on the doctor’s face was cloaked with confusion and fear. Billy had entered the room carrying his latest invention in his hand.

“Billy,” Dr. Bayles asked, “You said you used your gift to talk to your grandmother.”

“Yes,” Billy replied.

“Did you talk to her on that phone?” the doctor asked.

“No,” Billy answered astutely. He put the invention resembling a telephone onto the coffee table. “This is just a pretend invention.”

“Then how did your grandma tell you those stories about your father and me?” Sylvia asked apprehensive to hear the answer.

“She told me,” Billy answered.

“How did she tell you if it isn’t through your invention, Billy?” Chris asked.

“She’s here,” Billy replied, “And she’s smiling right now. She’s standing right behind mommy.”

Upon hearing the boy’s response, his mother fainted straight away.