Page 126 of My Destiny
“You take a right down here,” I say. “Her grave is towards the back. You should be able to park further down.” When he doesn’t reply, I turn my head to look over at him. All the colour has drained from his face, and he’s clutching the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles have turned white. “Are you okay?”
“There were times I daydreamed about seeing her again, and what that moment would be like, but never did I imagine our reunion being here, by her gravesite.”
“I hate coming here too,” I admit. “I prefer to focus on the good times, before she got sick.”
He reaches across the centre console, placing his hand just above my knee. “I’m thankful I have you with me, sweetheart. I only wish I’d been there for you back then.”
“To be honest, the day I buried her was a bit of a blur. The doctor gave me some sedatives to take that morning. It was the only way I could’ve gotten through it.” I bow my head as shame seeps through me, and his grip on my leg tightens. The night before the burial, there was a viewing. The person who lay in that coffin looked nothing like the woman I’d grown up with. The funeral home had made her up, but she wasn’t one to ever wear makeup. And the awful wig they’d placed on her head was nothing like her real hair. She looked more like an oversized doll than a person. I thought seeing her one last time would help, but instead those images haunt me. Every time I come here, that’s all I see.
“I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”
He pulls the car over to the side of the road, and I remove my seatbelt. I gaze out the window as I reach for the door handle. She’s only a few rows back. Unlike some of the fancier large headstones around her, I could only afford to get her a small plaque mounted in the ground. She deserved better.
I stand beside the car while John reaches into the backseat for the flowers. When he rounds the vehicle, he reaches for my hand and clutches it in his. “You’re shaking,” he says.
I shrug in response because what else can I say. A part of me is having second thoughts about agreeing to this. I can only hope she’s okay with me bringing him here.
“It’s just here,” I say, pointing downwards. My mother’s once shiny plaque is now covered with dirt and leaves, and the grass has grown over the edges. The guilt I was feeling earlier magnifies tenfold.
I immediately fall to my knees and hastily brush the debris away with my hands. “I’m sorry, Mum,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Moments later, John appears beside me. “Let me do that.” I turn my head to look at him, and when he sees the tears pooling in my eyes, he drapes his arm over my shoulder and pulls my body towards his. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
“I should’ve come sooner.”
“You had your reasons for not coming,” he says, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “Your mother was the most understanding and forgiving person. She would understand.” His words give some comfort. Releasing me, he starts tearing out the grass that’s growing over her plaque. “I have some wet wipes in the glove compartment. Do you want to grab them?”
“Okay,” I say, scrambling to my feet. I jog back to the car and return seconds later, only to find John with his hands covering his face. There’s no sound coming from him, but I can see he’s crying by the rise and fall of his shoulders.
Kneeling down, I place the wipes beside me and wrap my other arm around his waist from behind. No words are spoken as I let him grieve his love. Minutes pass before he finally removes his hands. “Losing her still hurts. After all these years, it still tears me up inside. I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I can’t either,” I say, wiping a stray tear from my face. “She was only forty-four years old when she passed.”
“Way too young.”
I pick up the wipes and pull a few out, then start wiping over the inscription. ‘You were loved beyond words, and you’ll be missed beyond measure.’ Tears roll down my face as I do so. When I’m done, John’s fingers lightly caress her name before he places the flowers down beside it.
“It’s a beautiful inscription,” he says. “Very fitting.”
“It’s simple, but something from the heart.”
“It’s perfect.” I can see he’s struggling to hold himself together, and strangely enough, it makes me feel closer to him. It’s nice to know I’m not the only person who feels her loss as deeply as I do.
“I have something for you. It’s in my bag in the car. Let me go and get it.” I’d planned on giving it to him later, but this seems like the perfect moment.
Reaching out, he helps me to my feet, and I scoop up the wipes as I go.
When I get back to him, he’s still on his knees. His head is bowed, and his hands are clasped together in front of him. I think he’s praying. Is he a religious man? There’s so much I don’t know about him.
Standing back, I wait until he’s finished before I take a seat beside him and unzip my dance bag. My eyes move down to his watch again. “I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this,” I say, pulling out the small box. “But I had this repaired for you.”
His bottom lip starts to quiver the moment he opens it. “My watch.”
“It’s working as good as new. I also had the glass face and band replaced.”
The smile on his face is bright. “Thank you,” he says, his voice cracking. I’m about to tell him he doesn’t have to wear it if he doesn’t want to, but before I get the chance, he removes it from the box and then takes off the expensive gold one he’s wearing. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
The expression on his face as he straps it on his wrist says so much. “I think I do,” I reply.
