This is an entry for @whitewarlike 's New Steemit Writing Challenge! Hope you enjoy!
“Friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of...” the minister continued solemnly, his voice barely a whisper to the small boy standing far behind the fence of the cemetery.
One by one, people came in droves to place white sheets of paper into a 6 foot rectangular grave. This wasn't an actual grave – just a representation of the one where Dreemsteem had been buried 6 months prior to this event.
Driving along the road leading up to her mountain home, Dreemsteem had plummeted to her death after her brakes had failed.
“Papa, how come they're all puttin' papers into that hole?” the little boy asked, as he raised his arms so his Papa could lift him high enough to see more easily.
Papa bent down and wiped his leaking eyes with the back of his hand. Lifting the boy into his arms, he snuggled him close and sniffed the sweet smell of jasmine in his hair. It brought back a faint memory of the perfume that Dreemsteem had worn at the conference last year. Had it not been for her.... he shuddered to think of what might have been their future.
“How come we can't go closer, Papa? I wanna see that hole too,” the boy struggled to get comfortable in Papa's arms, as he was getting much too big to be held by Papa.
“Look at all these people. They need to put their pages in the hole. We're giving them the opportunity to go first. If there's still daylight after they're finished, I'll take you to see the hole. Now, stop squirming. Eat your dreemyberry,” Papa chided the boy as he fished four purple berries out of a small bag and popped them into the child's mouth.
The berries were similar to raspberries, but sweeter. The boy eagerly devoured all four berries and hoped that there were more in the small paper bag.
"Dreemyberry" ~ Source“Mmmm, I love dreemyberries,” the child licked each finger, before sticking his hand into the bag. “Can I have some more?”
“No,” Papa smiled in response to the boy's eager search. “You can have four more tomorrow.”
“Four, four. Always four. No more. Go to the store!” the boy giggled at his rhyming pattern.
Papa set his grandchild back down to the ground and wiggled his finger in the little face, teasingly.
“Only four. These came at a high price, and we need to honor the gift that they are.”
“How much did they cost, Papa? I have money. I can buy us some more.”
“No, my love. They cost that lady up there.... her life.” Papa paused and looked away to the darkening sky. “She knew that they'd be after her. And they did get her in the end. But tricks on them, because after her death – all her research was released to all the media, lawyers galore, doctors, hospitals, patients, as many people as you see here – and many more.”
“What's that mean Papa? How did she pay for dreemyberries with her life??”
“Nevermind, child. You'll know one day.”
Papa and grandson waited patiently for each person to drop their paper into the grave.
Hours later, Papa roused the sleeping child in his arms. “Look. Momma is putting her papers in.”
A slender dark-haired woman walked up to the grave, stood silently for a moment and placed two papers among the thousands of others. She slowly made her way back through the crowd of people still waiting, and eventually reached the side of her father.
Papa looked down at the child. “Do you still want to wait for all the people so you can see the grave with the papers?”
Rubbing his eyes, the little boy shook his head 'no'. “That's ok. Momma can just tell me what the paper said. She put one in for me and one in for her. Right, Momma? What did our papers say?”
Momma took the child from her father's arms and squeezed him gently to her chest, feeling the warmth of his healthy little body.
She put her face close to his ear and whispered.
“Cancer: Full Remission.”
