The Five Stages of Grief

Epilogue

The Little Master knew why Rob loved these appliances so. His memory was faded, but he remembered the oddities, the interactions, suddenly being alone when a parent entered the room, or perhaps catching a whisper of a voice as he did his homework, one earbud in. It was always the original five too, as if, whatever rule there was to keep their existence unknown was not as strict to them.

Perhaps he was going crazy, trying to cope with his late father. But it explained all the coincidences, why his father always kept the five, despite not even being the most reliable of old appliances, with the exception of the Kirby bit would also explain the hoarding of household appliances.

He shook his head, he was thinking too much, what he was doing was insane, and yet he couldn't bring himself to turn around, to go back home. He had told his mother he was to try and find a home for the original Kirby, lamp, radio, heating blanket and toaster; he was headed to see his father instead.

The cemetery was not quite in the heart of the town, but not quite on the outskirts either; it was perfect, well maintained but not surrounded by noise and the hustle and bustle of city life. It had the neatness of the city, but time stood still, as if in the country.

He was alone, and yet he felt he'd not be dissuaded from his actions no matter the embarrassment from passerby.

He parked slow, popped the trunk of his car, and retrieved all five appliances minus Kirby. He put the blanket over a shoulder, the smaller appliances in an over the shoulder duffel bag, slung it on, then grasped the vacuum with two hands, one on the handle, one under its base. With a groan he hoisted it up, and on he travelled, staggering occasionally. It wasn't until he got to his father's grave that he set down the appliances, laid them out side by side.

He sat back, panted, and recovered. He stared at the grave, thought about talking to him, deemed it too corny, like girls drama film, and rolled his eyes much like his mother. Still, seeing those appliances there brought tears to his eyes; these were the last embodiment of his father, and he felt tempted to leave the appliances there, but also to keep them.

He sighed, wiped away his tears, they'd be stolen in no time, and if he kept them, he knew he wouldn't use them. It was better to give them away at home in the next week.

He stood from the damp grass, said he'd return in a few minutes, and left to close the trunk of his car, which would only take a minute at most. Still, he hovered, leaning on his car, refusing to look in the direction of his father's grave. Half of him felt silly, mocking him, saying he'd be in a crazy house yet, the other half pleaded for closure, however possible.

When he returned, the appliances were where he left him; the grass around them were trampled, and if one had not known it'd been sunny the past half hour, thought they had a few raindrops on them. The Little Master knew they weren't rain drops, and he stared for a moment, then at the grave.

Once the appliances left, they'd have a new life. It would be better, and he realised, he'd have to move on too, learn to continue on without one of his biggest idols. Without his father.

It was a calm realisation, there were no choked sobs or tears. He simply nodded, reassured with this new certainty, and the certainty that the appliances had said their good bye. He packed them up, hauled them back to his car.

As he packed them up, he wiped off the remaining tears. Maybe he really was going crazy, but at least he felt comforted.

As he drove home, he shed his own tears, knowing he'd have to give up the magical appliances, never knowing their story. There was a reason for that, he was sure, so he must go through with the plan.

...

In the trunk, the appliances huddled together, for comfort and to cry further, silently. No song could fill the raw emotions, as they all had finally accepted The Master's death, Radio finally let his emotions flow freely. The indescribable size of appreciation for the Little Master taking them to see their human one last time, no matter how painful the scene was.

Most of, realising that, in the trunk, they were finally all on the same page again, it would all still hurt for years to come, but they were together again.

Just yesterday I bought myself a Kirby shirt, for he is my favourite character and has been since childhood, but also a compilation book that within it holds the original Brave Little Toaster story. I can not wait to have these objects in my hand.