Chapter 1: One
Another day at the Graveyard…
I woke up to a relatively windy day at work. I started working at the Graveyard as a groundsman, weeks after my wife Angie died in a car accident. I never really imagined my life as a groundsman, considering I had a Ph.D. I looked out the window to assess how my day was going to be.
Trees stood tall at the periphery of the graveyard. Their arms convoluted and bony, thin out as they grew aimlessly around the trunk. Gnarled branches growing at odd angles, clawed outwards, in an attempt to escape. Autumn leaves adorned the skeletal branches cloaking them in bright yellow, vivid orange, and subtle red, the colors fading in the failing light. The wind continued to blow harshly, and a leaf broke off its branch, plummeting to its death. As I sat there admiring the view, I heard a knock on my door.
"Hello?" a sweet voice said from the other side of the door.
"Coming." I raised my voice to prevent another knock. I approached the door. "How can I…. I… I…" My mouth couldn't utter another word. It was like I forgot how to speak.
"Are you okay, sir?" She smiled.
"Hel---p m---e???" I stuttered.
"Right now, looks like you need it."
I had never seen such a beautiful girl before, not after Angie passed – her beautiful face demanded attention, her high cheekbones calling my eyes to the statuesque bone structure underlying its gentleness.
She had been graced with a look that could be that of royalty. Her tight, rose-colored lips pursed in what appeared to be mid-kiss. The slight hint of moisture on her lips made them glisten in the light, causing them to look as though they were really a reflection on the waters of a pond and not really a part of her at all. Her emerald, green eyes stared back as though to pierce my very soul and derive my thoughts and feelings. I could see the different shades of green streaking through her eyes, making them appear to be alive just as fire does when it moved and flickered.
"I am looking for the groundsman. I have to pick out a burial plot for my father," she continued.
"I am sorry for your loss," I replied trying to get my head back together.
"Thank you, he was in a car accident." Her eyes filled with tears.
"May I have some information?" I asked, grabbing a small stack of papers and a pen.
"Sure." She tried to force a smile.
"What type of plot were you hoping for? By the woods or the river?"
"The river would be nice."
"May I know your name?"
"Zoey Hall."
"Father's name?"
"His name is Bill. Bill Hall.," she said.
My heart nearly stopped. How can I be the one who breaks this poor girl's heart? "You, okay?" she asked.
"Um yeah, I hate to be the one who tells you this, but we buried a Bill Hall yesterday."
"What?" Zoey was confused.
"When was his birthday?"
"September 20th, 1966."
"Date of Death?"
"October 9th, 2020."
"Yup. That's our guy. He was buried here yesterday."
"How could they bury him without telling me?" Zoey's eyes teared up again.
"I will take you to his grave." I extended my hand nervously.
"I can't believe they wouldn't tell me about the funeral."
"Why wouldn't they want you to know?"
"Well, I haven't talked to my family in a long time," she said. "I stumbled across the news from a cashier in the grocery store and figured I could beat them here."
I did not know how to react or respond to what I just heard, so I kept silent the whole way. "Here it is." I pointed to the tombstone. "If you need anything, I'll be in the office."
"Thank you," she said with a small smile as she sat on the bench facing the grave.
In Memory Of
Bill Hall
1966 – 2020
Father, Husband, and Friend
I wished I could stay by her side, but I had some work to do. I went to the storage barn and grabbed the lawnmower. I was so used to the job that I often chatted with each of the headstones, calling them out by name. I often wondered about who the people were – their lives, dreams, and accomplishments. I felt relieved stepping down from the lawnmower after what felt like days of mowing grass. I glanced across my position, towards Bill Hall's grave. She was still there. She looks like she hasn't moved a muscle. She shouldn't be out there in this weather. I went to my closet to grab a jacket and ran to the door. As I opened the door, I saw Zoey standing in front of me.
"Can you tell me who set everything up for my father?" Zoey asked.
"She was a nice girl. June was her name.'' I replied, recalling the sweet face in my mind.
"That's my mother." She wiped away a tear from her face.
"You know, ma'am, it's getting chilly outside. You should plan on heading home."
"I plan on just sleeping on his grave. It's the only thing that makes sense right now."
"I can't let you do that. We close at dusk and, besides, you'll freeze to death. You can come back first thing tomorrow morning," Zoey nodded her head as my eyes watched her walk toward the cemetery exit gate.
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