St. Mary’s Cemetery was a beautiful old graveyard with rows and rows of fancy monuments and statues. There was no doubt that most who had been buried here had led successful lives. The mausoleums were numerous and the grounds well kept. The older grave stones had been washed clean by the elements and I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be until the dead beneath the lush green lawn were forgotten for eternity. I knew there was a book with every name printed within by way of a record but books were not eternal. Nothing was.

I was saddened as I drove to the back row and parked my old clunker of a car. I shut the ignition off and listened as it sputtered and then finally quit. I reached over and carefully lifted the bouquet of pink and yellow roses in the passenger seat . The flowers were beautiful, the bouquet had been expensive, perhaps a bit more expensive than I could afford. It didn’t matter though, money was as temporary as life. No need to hoard it.

I could not count the number of times I had made this trip for I visited her grave every day. I tried to pick up flowers when I could, usually three times a week, maybe four on a good week. I loved to come here. It was the only place I felt at peace. Her grave was graced with a tall statue of an angel holding a child. Etched into the marble under the angel’s bare feet were the words :

Christina Marie Everest
May 7th, 1998 – August 15th, 2001
Beloved baby girl whose life touched everyone she met
May the angels rock her to sleep

I placed the bouquet into it’s holder and then knelt down onto the spongy earth of the grave. The sky was threatening rain for the second time today and moisture soaked my knees through the fishnet stockings I wore. The loud rumble of thunder followed by a bright flash of lightning startled me for a second but I hadn’t finished my daily ritual yet and so I ignored the ominous weather and rested my head on the angel’s feet and wept as I did every day. I mourned for my lost daughter, the little girl who’d had the sweetest blonde curls before the chemotherapy had robbed her of them. I mourned for all the milestones I would miss even as I remembered her first smile, her first word, her first steps. The tears fell bitterly down my cheeks and dripped onto my clothes.

I did not notice when rain joined my tears. I didn’t care if I got soaked. I never felt more alive then when I was amongst the dead. This is where I belonged not out in the world of the living with their ever present smiles and words of encouragement. I remembered Gina the florist and how she had asked me how I was today in that casual manner that proprietors often use with their customers. I just stared at her hard and long until she finally looked away. She surely couldn’t be dumb enough to think I was having a happy existence. Everyone in the city knew who I was and what had happened to Christina. Fuck, I was at the shop buying flowers for her grave. Yeah, I wanted to say, I am just peachy, stupid bitch.

I don’t know how long I knelt there weeping as the storm raged on around me, bending the branches of the old oak trees that were scattered throughout the headstones. My emotions were raw as they seemed to always be and I wanted nothing more than to sink through the earth and be with my baby.

“Mrs. Everest?” said a male voice from somewhere behind me.

“Go away.”

“The weather is only going to get worse, there are tornado watches in effect. It’s not safe for you to be here,” said the mystery man.

“Maybe I can get struck by lightning or something.” I said as I rocked back onto the heels of my knee high boots and stood up.