Gravedigger's Cottage by Chris Lynch

Author:Chris Lynch [Lynch, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4804-0460-1
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2013-02-19T17:46:00+00:00

Ever Anymore

I REMEMBERED THAT MY mom was afraid of germs. I remembered that she was afraid for herself but mostly for me. She was always protecting me from germs, keeping me out of drafts and away from people who coughed. I remembered that me and my mom spent all our time together, as if there were two people in the world for much of the time, and that those two people, me and her, were always warm and safe and together, bundled up and cozy and safe. I remembered that she didn’t even like me to touch the mail, because somewhere out there somebody dirty may have licked it.

I did not remember my mom’s funeral, because I did not go. I remembered one part of her wake because I was allowed to go. I remembered being brought in and the unusual smell, not good, not bad, but unusual—bakey, warm, and fruity—of the funeral parlor. I remembered the smell and how it made me feel upset and scared, but that I was with my dad’s cousin Diane and she was leading me in by the hand, and so I could do it okay. I remembered that I was on my way up there, toward the casket where they were keeping my mom, where it was open and everyone could look at her and I knew she would not like that at all, but that everyone for the moment seemed to be looking at me anyway, while Diane led me by the hand. I could at least do that for my mom. I remembered it being long, like a mile from the front door to the casket, and it took forever.

I remembered hoping that people who were coming to see my mom were taking care not to breathe on her because she wouldn’t like that.

I remembered hearing kind whispers of people all the way up that mile aisle as I made it almost all the way to making it all the way to my mom when I saw my dad.

I remembered stopping, planting myself right there in the middle of that aisle like I was vines growing up out of the floor, when I saw my dad. When I saw my dad crying out his heart, crying out his guts, crying out of his mind up there next to that casket. My dad. I remembered he did not even know I was there.

Ten cousin Dianes would not have been strong enough to get me any closer to that casket, to that mom, to that dad.

I pulled with all I had, and if I had to put Diane over my shoulder to get out of there I would have. But I didn’t need to. She took me out, took me home, stayed with me, tried to stay with me. She tried to hold me, tried to comfort me, tried to touch me, and in the end just about managed to follow me around room to room, chair to bed to yard, following, watching,

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