The silence is second nature to me. It clings to this place, settles and seeps into the stones and soil. Grave silence.
I drift toward a newly set headstone. It's well polished, the surface smooth and shiny. The owners or rather family must be rich. They like to beautify death with money they should have spent while living.
My ears perk up like a dog's at the sound of hurried footsteps.
“Will you stop for a moment?” A man calls but the footsteps quicken.
I glance at the name carved into the new stone, torn between greeting the newcomer and seeing who the intruders are. It's been a while since I’ve made a friend.
“Christina, stop. Please.” It's the man again. I roll my eyes and sigh, leaving the new stone. Gliding between older stones, I see the couple walking towards my direction.
The woman is average height, dark hair and beautiful, her brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. The man, about a foot taller than her, brutish with a full, unkempt beard stalks after her.
He catches up and hugs her from behind. She resists for a moment then goes still in his arms. Deep sobs shake her lithe body. I hover closer to them both and settle on Mandy's headstone. He won't mind since he's been off haunting his ex-wife for some months now.
“I'm sorry, Christina,” the man whispers into her hair. “It's just a tradition, okay? A funny one. We don't have to do it if you don't want to.”
“A funny tradition?” Her voice cracks. “Mummifying my daughter's body? Who does that anymore?”
Ah, so that's the issue. I'm assuming he's her husband or partner but I'm curious about their deceased daughter.
I circle them both, the air thick with their grief and sadness. A faint whiff of their affection for each other hits me, especially from the woman. Pity.
“I want to scatter her ashes by the river,” she says, crying again. “So she can always find her way back to me.” The husband nods, gently turns her to face him. They gaze into each others’ eyes, understanding settling between them.
Days ago, I told Mandy and Connor I was getting bored at St. Claire's Cemetery. Now, watching this couple, I want to be a part of their lives. For a while, if I can have it.
I follow them as they leave, back to their car and slip into the passenger seat. A few ghosts lift their heads and give a lazy wave.
Maybe they'll miss me here for a season.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "a funny tradition".
Thank you for visiting my blog.
Image credit: Myshoun
