Page 1 of See Me After Class

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Dessie

"There are two things I can say with absolute certainty, Dessie. One, the world will look for a hundred ways to break a capable woman. Two, you will never let it."

I pushed back the rising tide of acrid regret that threatened to spill into my mouth. Before this, I had little reason to wonder what sorrow would taste like, even though it had been a permanent fixture in my life.

"From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we consecrate thee to the ground. Let there be peace for thy soul."

The somber, lullaby-like words of the priest cast a gentle spell over my heart.

I tightened my grip on my purse. Would Oswald finally have peace now that he was no longer here? Because there was none for me.

My last encounter with anything remotely resembling peace had been two nights before, sitting huddled in the cozy armchairby our home's fireplace as Oswald recounted the happenings of his day.

Oswald… his warmth, his constant urge to live life to the fullest, and his big heart full of nothing but love for me.

I was not born of him, but there was no man I would rather have called my father.

The unfairness of everything hit me like a stone to my throat. We were supposed to see the world together. I blinked hard, pushing back the rogue tears that attempted to rise to the surface.

A bitterly cold wind swept over the black trimmings of my coat. I pulled it closer and looked up to the sky. Perhaps this was God's way of saying Oswald deserved an appropriate send-off, even though the funeral was a small, hushed affair.

Given how Oswald hated pomp and show with a passion, it had felt right to keep things limited to the immediate family.

Autumn descended upon Connecticut with urgent haste, a cool rush of change that swept through the quiet nooks where Oswald had once woven his existence.

It was here he had lived, loved, and ultimately, had bidden farewell to the world as a man who was deeply and universally beloved.

Bare trees, stripped of their verdant glory, stood sentinel against the dull, leaden skies, their skeletal limbs groaning under the season's weight. Piles of leaves, a painter's palette of fiery reds and burnt oranges, swirled and danced across the expansive cemetery.

Each gust of wind kicked up a whirlwind of these fallen fragments, creating a russet-hued ballet of autumn's decay.

"Miss Gardner?"

I bit down on my lip to keep myself from screaming. This was the hundredth time someone had spoken to me in that 'I'm sorry this is happening to you', pity-riddled tone. I dugmy nails into the soft flesh of my palms, now balled into fists. "Uncle Cuthbert," I muttered. "Thank you for taking care of the arrangements."

Oswald's lawyer responded with a brief nod. "It was the least I could do. It was a remarkably small send-off for a man of his stature and achievements. But, given how unexpectedly everything has happened, perhaps…"

His words trailed off into space, and I let them.

The final notes of the funeral hymn hung heavily in the crisp Connecticut air, the melody lingering like a ghost over the freshly dug earth.

As the pallbearers slowly lowered my father's casket toward its final resting place, I felt a tangible emptiness creep into the space around my heart. Each thud of the wooden box against the grave's walls echoed a reality I was unwilling to accept.

"Let us have a moment of silence for Oswald." Father Thomas's voice cut through the thick quiet, a knife sharpened with finality.

The gathered mourners bowed their heads, a sea of black attire that reflected the gray of the early winter sky. Their heads bobbed slightly in rhythm with the priest's words.

Father Thomas began to recite the Lord's Prayer in his sonorous voice. "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

I knelt and picked up a fistful of dank autumnal soil, feeling the chilling dampness seep into my skin.

The texture was grainy, a tactile reminder of the cyclical nature of life.Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. I could feel the undercurrent of finality pulsating through the silence.

"Release the earth, child." Father Thomas's words held an odd blend of gentleness and gravity. "As you release this soil, release your pain."

I could hear him speak but remained on my knees, rooted to the spot.This was the last thing I will ever do for my father.

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