Some tranquil moments and reflections.
From Here Lies.
The
funeral was big. A woman who lived so long deserved respect. He stood
with her family as people sympathised: each agreed it was time for
her soul to rest.
He kept his back to
the area of the graveyard where Deirdre lay. When he attended other
burials he left by the small gate in the wall nearest the bridge, he
never visited her. Now he turned to follow his shadow, a pathway
guide painted by the climbing sun, to her.
She wasn’t alone
any more: her parents were buried beside her. That in itself caused a
pang of sadness, a slight tightening in the chest, a queasy feeling
down low in the stomach: a memory of a time when he thought that in
the end, they would lie side by side. It wasn’t anything they
talked about, or even planned, but down there in that country town
husbands and wives usually ended up that way: twin plots one
headstone; beloved wife devoted husband.
He ran their song
through his head. It brought him back to the tennis hops. She always
saved that dance for him. No, matter who they were with, once the
record began, they left and found each other.
A soft, “Hello.”
“Hello yourself.”
She settled within
his arms and they slow danced: her chin on his shoulder, their eyes
closed bodies moving slowly in unison; stepping to the slow beat
one-two-one, one-two-one, one-two-one, alone in a crowd, lost in
their world; the one that Buddy brought them to.
Sometimes we’ll
sigh,
Sometimes we’ll
cry,
And we’ll know
why,
Just you and I,
Know true love ways…
The townspeople were
leaving to go back to their own lives. Only a few remained, dotted
around the plots, at the resting places of their loved ones. The
local solicitor, while paying her respects, had asked him to call in
when he had time.
“I know she left
me the wood,” he said. “It's not that she replied. Call soon.”
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