Happy Times Ahead, Still the Last Day’s Rough

The day finally arrived, that last day to work at the job that had been her’s for the last quarter century. It was the day she had dreamed about for oh, so many years. It heralded the segment in her life that meant she could laugh at the alarm clock, for once, get out of bed when she felt like getting out of bed, and pursue activities that were to her liking only.
Still, it was a day that marked a milestone in her life. She thought back over time when there were loved ones who wished her well each morning as she left for work, and they were there to greet her when again she reentered that humble portal. They were gone now, all that she had were memories and a few photos in dusty frames in the living room. Even that flea-bitten old hound dog she used to simply put up with because those loved ones felt sorry for it had long departed to wherever dogs go when they die.
Making it especially difficult was that her last day was the in holiday season, a time when myriad emotions creep into one’s mind to help recall things long forgotten. They reemerge, as did Marley’s apparitions in Dickens’ story, to linger on in the memory.
The boss and upper administration had been most kind to her, they sprang for a nice luncheon, gave an engraved certificate that attested to their appreciation for all that she’s done in the last 25 years. So kind were they that she was even given a diamond-studded wristwatch and color group photograph of “the gang” at the office.
She looked and recalled when “the boss” was a Boy Scout, selling magazine subscriptions to raise money to go to a jamboree. She remembered buying one from him, and thought to herself how someday that boy was going somewhere in the world of business. Little did she anticipate it would be into the place where she worked, and certainly, she never expected he would rise through the ranks to become her superior, but that was business, and she was secretly glad that success had been his.
Long months ago, when her final retirement date was set in concrete, it seemed like reaching for the horizon. It was always “out there” off in the distance, never to be reached, or so she thought.
Finally, the day was here. To ease the pain of leaving, she had been taking personal effects from her work station little by little. So, all that was left was a cardboard box to be filled with the remainder of “stuff” to be taken out with her to the car and into retirement.
Over the past week or two, as old familiar faces had stopped in the office and passed her desk, she made it a point to say goodbye. Some asked what were her plans? She honestly replied, “I don’t know.” Others brushed off her farewell as crumbs from a matzo and they were out the door.
To be certain, the job didn’t pay awfully well, but there were some benefits, like health insurance. Retirement was something like a beautiful sunset, it was stunning for a while, but the twilight turned dim and would soon become a dark night. She had some distant relatives, you know, the ones who always told her to call if she needed anything. She never did, but that’s just how some families are. She looked forward to taking a more active part in her house of worship. It was something she recalled her mother did, and seemed to be the thing to do in one’s alleged “golden years.”
That was for later, right now, it was time to look around the office one last time. She glanced at the darn clock, the one that was always five minutes slow, and it was ticking close to five o’clock, so she knew the time had just about come to depart.
Her eyes swept across the desk one last time. The desk calendar would stay, the one she had marked “D.T.G.” (days to go) and had longed that this hour might quickly arrive, and now it was here.
Funny, that growing lump in her throat, it wasn’t there a half hour ago, now she found it getting harder to swallow as the second hand swept onward toward the 12. Time was flying and she would be its next victim.
Her young assistant stood silently, as if trying to read her mind at this momentous time of crossing the bar, age passing the baton to youth. Wasn’t it just yesterday or the day before when she was in the place of that lass with a fresh-faced smile, ever trusting, with a sparkling engagement ring and hope for the future? Ah, yes, well, life goes on.
They embraced in silence, tears streamed down two faces. Words are not meant for times such as these. Man had invented all sorts of gimmicks and contraptions to make work easier, yet has done nothing to make parting less painful.
The old clock read 5:05, so it was time to depart. Their eyes met one last time, their heads nodded and she moved resolutely to the door clutching that cardboard box filled with the last of her things.
It was the beginning of the happiest time of her life, or so she’d heard from countless sages. She just had to get used to the notion, and that would start tomorrow. Right then, a quarter century of service ended, a life changed, and the sun was already below the trees. It was growing dark and cold and her tears felt like icicles.