Painful Memories

• Samantha Parker, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2008

No matter what time of the day it was, it could happen.
The old man was never safe from the past, and the constant reminders certainly did not help with his day to day living. In fact, it really was detrimental to his way of life and full recovery.
During dinner, in the morning, in the darkness of the night; a constant surveillance was required to keep him tranquil. Even today, veterans were still feeling the effects of the war, and this man was certainly no exception.
The patients of ward 1946 were a mixture of people. There was such a vast and rich history between them all; even between the ten of them. Stories of triumph, honour, love, courage, strength and death touched each and every one of these individuals in some way, shape or form. They all had families, childhoods, jobs and lives they could scarcely remember, and this defined who they were as people, even if they could not retain that information.
The man, who was known to the other patients as “Bill” but whose real name was William Poviey, remained in bed most of that week.
It seemed to the other patients and staff of ‘Heathcliff International Correctional Centre and Psychiatric Hospital’ that this was a particularly irksome week for Mr. Poviey. It was the same year on his birthday; his subconscious bought memories to the surface he could narrowly remember, but never faltered in giving him nightmares.
On the first occasion this happened, the hospital contacted the last living relatives of Mr. Poviey; his son and daughter Alan and Hazel. They kindly consented to giving some background information about their father, to help elucidate all details about his past.
They gave detail to the hospital about various aspects of their fathers’ involvement in the war, and provided them with quotes from him himself when he was younger and more able in his senses.
“They beat me like a drum,” he had said, when describing the eight hours of torture he had endured from the enemy. “Loneliness was the shadow that fell across the face of the mountain.”
His offspring were back again today, hoping to celebrate his birthday with him. Alas, they found him in his bed in ward, surrounded by his many war medals and badges, as well as a nurse, who was holding their fathers hand and wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. They came and sat either side of him, the nurse giving them a worried look as they approached. He didn’t appear to be conscious to the world around him; his eyes were glazed over and distant, and he began to cry out to nobody in particular.
“We were beaten by a Japanese guard who was a baseball enthusiast. The beatings were in the manner of baseball swings, with a lump of bamboo across the buttocks.”
The nurse tried to calm him. “Sshh” She purred, holding the cloth over his head. Despite this small comfort, he continued, as strong as ever. “My whole body ached; I’m stoked by the fever. Hungry, weary... thirsty...” His voice trailed off into nothing, and the three physically able gazed at him with cautious eyes as he appeared to drift unevenly to sleep.
“Third attack today.” The nurse informed them, wiping the beads of sweat from around his face.
This is why this week, today on this very day that is so special to the man for more than one reason, although he does not remember it; his only remaining family come in to celebrate his life with him in the hospital. They sit near their fathers’ bed, and it was as if he had never left them all those years ago. Never left them at home with their mother, wondering whether or not he would ever return home again. They remember how when he did return home, he was in a pretty bad way, and how it had gotten so much worse over the years.
They sit and hold his hand, wondering if he’ll ever recognise them once more, if he’ll remember they do this same thing ever year. And of course, they know, that one day he will. That one day he will again remember, and love and hope and smile. Because he will be able to put his unpleasant past behind him, move on, and see the shining light that is his life today, even if he does not realise that now.

Williams Quotes Taken From “The Line” by Martin and Arch Flanagan.