#1 : Mr & Mrs Peterson
The Couple from the Lighthouse
TW/CW: Mentions of Death
Mrs Peterson was 92 when she died.
She was like a grandma to everyone in the village, especially to the young ones.
The one that even the adults would go to when they were feeling down or needed someone to talk to.
Whether it was purely cause she was good at listening, good at giving advice or something else, or mayhap it was the cookies, the gooey brownies or the freshly made cakes and breads.
Despite the bakery the village has, hers were always better.
She was considered the village Grandma, and she had no problem with that.
The multiple occasions where children would be found have a picnic near the lighthouse and she would bring out drinks and snacks, sit with them and tell them stories, or teach them things.
She and Mr Peterson had known each other since they were young, only about 4 years difference between them, they’d met when she was 19 and he 23.
They’d not met in the village or the school that resides in the city about a 40 minute walk away from the village, but they’d met on a boat ride, in another coastal location, she’d originally been afraid of the ocean, getting on the boat she’d clung to him for safety, mistaking him for her friend with her at the time.
Of course she let go as soon as she realized, but he’d smiled at her, told her it was okay, and once they were back on land, he found her and made sure she was okay.
This is just what she would tell people, this is what she told people how they’d met.
And like most others outside this village, she’d never previously heard of the location before, but she had grown to love it quickly.
Grown to love the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff, the storms that would pass each year, she thrived seeing the community grow and change. Just like anyone else here.
They’d married when she was 21, around 30 she got sick, learnt she couldn’t have children, and her health deteriorated not just physically but mentally, and it took a long time for her to find herself again, but Mr Peterson stayed by her side.
When she felt well enough and capable she spent a lot of time helping new mothers, got a career outside of the village to do so as well.
It seemed to help her a lot, and when she finally retired she was 68, she’d found it hard to leave.
Between then and the age of 87, she did a lot for the community, helped at the church, took part in the community events, helping anywhere she could with food and decoration, spending time with the young and adult alike in the village.
At 87 she fell sick again, the same thing she’d had when she was 30, though this time it left her bed ridden, and she fought for 3 years, and shortly after her 92nd birthday she passed away peacefully, holding Mr Peterson’s hand.
He, was 114 when he died.
He’d never been the same after she’d died. No life in his eyes, barely a smile seen on his face, and boy was he tired of life. Tired of Living.
He hated that the world seemed to be forcing him to live longer and longer, forcing him to be around where she was not.
And it didn’t matter how much he tended to the lighthouse, it was never enough of a distraction to pull him away from the torture that was being alive.
People did everything they could, but eventually they ended up leaving him alone, because they assumed that was what he wanted. To be alone.
If you got to close to the lighthouse, and were out there for too long, there wouldn’t be too much time before he was out the front door, yelling at you to leave.
Some of the adults tried to justify this by saying it was for the safety of the children, because of the deteriorating cliff, the fact that the foundations of the lighthouse were visible on the outer most edge of the cliff, where it would be hit by high waves during extreme storms.
But the adults knew better, knew that it wasn’t for this reason, knew he was never going to be the kind man he used to be, having to live out his life alone without Mrs Peterson there at his side, and knowing that he constantly hoped for death.
People still tried to include him in things, but no one ever saw him smile, even if it was winter and there were gifts left at his door for him, he saw it as an inconvenience.
Only toward the end of his life did someone seem to really get to him, one of the kids, curious about the lighthouse, wanting to know the mechanics, how it worked, what it was for, why it was there, how long it had been there, if it was ever going to fall off the side of the cliff, how safe was it, could they live there once he’d died?
Questions from a kid.
The response of, “This lighthouse has been here longer than i’ve been alive, it’s been through a lot.
Been through many storms… Many strong winds… the cliff crumbling from under it, but it’s still standing…
I guarantee this old thing will still be standing by the time you’re old and grey like me.”
Mr Peterson died at 114.
We wish we could say it was peaceful, painless… but he was found at the bottom of the stairs in the lighthouse. Broken and bruised from a fall.
The kids were brought home form school early that day.
Because even though Mr Peterson was the way he was toward the end of his life, he was still apart of the community, he’d been here his whole life, all 114 years of it, and everyone was going to be there to see him off.
He was buried in the church graveyard, beside his Wife. Their tombstones had been designed many years ago, and fit together like jigsaw pieces.
They’re tended to everyday by the church. Fresh flowers placed every week.
The lighthouse is tended to by the adults, the children aren’t allowed inside, but that doesn’t seem to stop them trying.
Everything is covered in dust, it has been for years now, the only sign of people having been in there, is the lacking of dust that goes up to turn the light on and off.
The switch clean from the many hands that have handled it, but no one wanders elsewhere in the lighthouse or its attached house where the Peterson’s once lived.
It’s deemed unsafe for anyone to live in because of the exposed structures.
And the doors remain locked firmly, access only granted by the church who have the key.
Every Wednesday the next person is chosen to be on lighthouse duty for the week, its a voluntary task, but everyone here will do it without question.