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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/891594-My-Future
by kellee
Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #891594
A woman is trying to come to terms with the death of her husband
I walked at a deliberately slow pace, scanning all the names on the tombstones as I passed them. I wanted to remember them all, engrave them into the stone that was now my heart. It was rather ironic, I thought as I paused near the large oak tree with its brilliant red leaves. Such a full, busy life…and now he was going to be reduced to eternity in this monotonous field. For the first time in my life, I found myself praying that there was a heaven, just so Paul didn’t have to be trapped in such a dismal place.

I twirled around in a circle, anger shooting through me suddenly. Why in the hell did he wish to be buried here? I yelled to myself. Everything looked the same! You couldn’t tell one person’s grave from the others.

And that’s when it hit me. That was precisely why Paul chose this cemetery. He wanted to blend in and disappear. His life spent in the limelight because of his parents had been a hindrance to him. Now that he was gone, no one was able to force his or her decisions on him. He had the last word, after all, I told myself as I thought back to the night he was killed. He had told his parents that we had gotten married and they threatened to cut him off if he didn’t get it annulled. After a heated fight, he got in his car and sped away from their home. He barely lived a week afterwards; just enough time to get his will in order so I would be protected against his family once he was gone.

He also did it to keep me from ever having to live off the streets again. Even in his last moments of life, he was concerned over my wellbeing.

I took a deep breath as I tried to calm myself down. I couldn’t fall apart now. I knew if I let myself break down, I might never be able to pull myself together again. “Stand next to the tree facing north, turn east for four rows, then turn north for six more rows,” I said aloud, remembering what I had been told by the groundskeeper. I began reading the names again, trying to create a pattern in my mind to help me memorize everyone.

“Paul Jacob Mears,” I whispered to the quiet cemetery. I dropped to my knees with a dull thud, the damp grounds seeping through my jeans to chill my legs. I exhaled a long, shaky breath, feeling the sobs rising in my chest. Three days. Three short days of married bliss before everything fell apart. “Hi sweetie,” I wept, uncaring of the tears on my cheeks.

Now what? Was I supposed to make idle conversation? Was I supposed to tell him how my day has been? My horrible, lonely day. Should I rant and rave about how unfair it was that he died so young and so suddenly? What about how angry I was that life once again dealt me a low blow? For the first time, I wasn’t alone. I had someone. I had Paul. But Fate couldn’t stand seeing me happy even for a brief moment in time. And so you were ripped from my life, stolen when I least expected it, killed by a senseless car accident.

Once again, I was alone in the world.

I heaved a heavy sigh and sniffed back the tears. Standing up, I smiled weakly at his marker. Looking around myself, I felt a chill race down my spine. I was standing in a sea of sun-bleached tombstones, a single red leafed tree in the center. The wind wafted by, causing the branches to sway. It looked like the beating heart to all the white dots lining the deep green grass.

This was my present. This was my future. Frequent visits, walking past the Bauers, John G. Wilcox, Maria Lynne Appleton…These were going to be constants in my life from now on. The family I was supposed to build with Paul, the family I had never had, was going to become these names, these people.

“I’ll be back soon,” I said as I headed back for my car, weaving through the repetitive rows of markers. I gently dragged my palms over each marble slab, the coolness from the stone reminding me this was my reality now and not some horrible nightmare I would wake from soon. Daniel Alvin Montgomery; Sharon Michelle Dowell; Carol Ann Paige Larson…

As I climbed into my car, started it, and pulled away from the curb, I found myself trying to create images and lifestyles to some of the names I had read. Soon, I would know everyone in my new extended family. Since Fate refused to let me have a family of my own, I would make one...here. This place was my future.
© Copyright 2004 kellee (keemiemeela at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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