husband’s monument. A symbolic memorialization of the way she spent her life, most likely.
When I die, I want to be scattered over an ocean. I want to melt and then evaporate up into the sky and help form clouds. And when it rains, I want to drench the earth somewhere I can water a seed that is buried deep.
It’s a fantasy, one I’ve drawn and painted many times. I’ll probably just be lowered into the ground in a box somewhere and become worm food. But, I know for sure I won’t be buried here.
I lay a hand on the cold gravestone and trace the etched letter of his name while I talk to him.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year since you left me.” I laugh at myself and imagine his chiding glance. “I know… I’m selfish. You left everyone else, too.” I run my finger up the sharp bezel edge of J in his name. “But I’m the only one who’s really alone without you…”
The memory of Carter asleep on my couch when I left for work this morning, like he has been every morning since he started coming over last week, flashes through my mind and the heaviness in my chest lightens. I smile for the first time today.
“Well, maybe not so lonely anymore…but you know that, I guess…” I huff a small laugh. “I bet you sent him back right when I needed him.” I sigh deeply at the idea.
“Everything felt terrible until a few days ago. Now, he’s a daily fixture in my home—I mean in your home.”
I sigh and turn so my back is to the grass. He’s buried underneath the huge black walnut tree in our family cemetery. The shade makes laying out here on summer afternoons somewhat bearable. Still, sweat had started to pool under my cheek and I suddenly felt the pull of the sky.
I gaze up at it through the lace of leaves that canopy me, and sigh in relief as the light breeze cools my face. Then, I tell my brother all about Carter like I planned to that night in the hospital. There’s a lot to tell. I can’t believe that it’s only been a week.
“James, it’s great. He’s there when I come home after work, and there when I leave in the morning. I only know he’s gone home in between because he’s changed and shaved and smells like that soap of his I used last year. The night you came looking for me. The night everything changed.” The ache I’d been carrying all day had receded a little, but now it’s back.
The most beautiful night of my life is inextricably linked to and tainted by what the dawn brought.
“Why did you come looking for me that night? I don’t understand. I was safe. I called you to tell you.” I ask the question and I stare at the sky, praying for an answer that I know won’t come.
“You would like Carter. He’s kind of…sensitive and tortured. Like me…you can see he’s got demons he fights, but who doesn’t, and I like how hard he’s trying to make sure they don’t win. I’m so glad I got the courage to ask him over to use the piano. That was another inspired moment after I moved in. I can tell he needs it.” I close my eyes for a moment to focus on the picture of Carter sitting at that piano before I go on.
“He’s less grouchy every day.” I chuckle when I think of how he’d glowered at me when I approached him in the church parking lot.
That feels so long ago. When I get home, we usually say a quick hello, I change and then join him in the room where we work.
We work in silence mostly, but there are moments punctuated by great conversations and fantastic dinners that we usually prepare together in my kitchen.
Neither one of us a big meat eaters and he’s get these great vegetarian recipes from his mother. One night we even FaceTimed her together to get her chickpea avocado salad recipe. She acted like she was seeing a long lost friend when she spoke to me.
His family, their goodness and closeness, was one of the things that appealed the night I met him. And it was nice to get a taste of that again.
We’re both night owls, and it’s in those hours where we tell the truths that we can only manage to articulate through our artistic expression.
It’s heaven. There’s a