By late afternoon, I’m on my way to visit the place I dread most. I grab the bouquet I bought from the man down the street and throw on a tan colored blazer, already anticipating the cold.
Walking down the street, I can feel people’s eyes burning holes into the back of my head. I ignore their muttering, and take in my surroundings. The brown and orange leaves lay in scattered piles about the street, the old rusty fences standing tall in front of big white houses, the cloudy sky hovering over us like an old worn out blanket. I quicken my pace as the breeze picks up a little, blowing at my face like that of a dragon.
I round the corner, and even though I’m still quite a ways, I can see the big black iron gate open wide, welcoming me like the gates of Heaven. I bite my lower lip as I read the engraved writing in the stone walls: Lavender Creek Cemetery.
Surprisingly, there are quite a few more visitors here than usual. I pass by a long wall of cremated people, my eyes passing over their names and the roses, balloons and cards left at their marker.
All around are limestone statues of the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, angles, and scenes from the Bible. Although I’m surrounded by the bodies and souls of the deceased, this is peaceful to me.
Without watching my step, I trip very suddenly and fall down to my knees. I glance down quickly at the tombstone I now hovered over, mumbling a “Sorry”. I stand on my feet again and dust my jeans off but my eyes are still glued to the tombstone.
It’s not that big but the photo on it is what I can’t seem to turn away from; man who seems to be my age smiling, with short black hair and light brown eyes. He looks vaguely familiar, so I look at the name: Jarrett Redmond. That name doesn’t ring a bell whatsoever, so I shrug it off and continue on my way.
Finally, I reach what I’ve come here for. And once again, reality knocks me off my feet as I read your own precious stone:
In the Memory of:
Lauren Marie Knightman Timberlake
February 17, 1982-July 08, 2009
A beloved daughter, sister, friend, and wife
We miss you endlessly, but God will bless us with your presence once again as we too, will come Home.
I take a seat down on the damp grass, replacing the old flowers with new ones.
“Hi honey,” I say, “I miss you so much.”
My fingers trace the letters inscribed on the smooth marble, “Mom and everyone send their love. We wish you could be with us, especially since next week is Thanksgiving. I’m sure you would love to be with our friends and family.”
Off in the far distance, I can hear the church bell ringing. “Well, sweetheart, I’ve met this little girl, Angie. She’s smart for her age, and she doesn’t look at me funny, or judge me the way everyone else has in this town. I think you’d like her… you would have wanted a daughter like her…” I run a hand over my face, remembering how desperately we wanted to start a family.
A few onlookers stare at me as I speak, “Mom is really concerned for me. Well, Susan too,” I extend my legs forward and lean back, “They keep worrying about me. They don’t need to. And neither do you.” I don’t expect an answer, but I know what you would have said if you could talk. “I know… I know I haven’t been doing as well as I lead everyone to believe. But I just…it’s so hard…so hard…”
“I found your music box today, and a couple of other stuff. I still need to unpack everything else in there, who knows what I could find, right? Maybe I could even read you a few passages from your favorite books. That sounds fun.” A flock of pigeons gather around me, cooing and chirping. “I hope you’re doing okay, and that you think of me as much as I think about you.”
You ought to see the way these people look at me
When they see me around here talking to this stone
“Everyday, I wonder why this has happened. And I haven’t come up with anything that’s made sense. I probably never will.” Droplets spill from my eyes, racing down my face. “I can’t… I can’t do this without you Laur! I need you here with me. Why would anyone want to separate us? Why!”
“How could you leave me here? How…could… you…” I slam my fist against the ground, the frustration building up in me, “You weren’t supposed to go! Why? Why…come back. Please baby, come back to me…”
“Sir? Excuse me, you have to calm down,” a security guard rushes to my side.
“Don’t touch me!” I push him off, “Don’t touch me!”
“Please sir, don’t act crazy now. Let me just-”
“Help me, right? That’s what EVERYBODY wants to do! Help me! I don’t need help!”
Everybody thinks I’ve lost my mind
But I just take it day by day
I jump to my feet, balling my fists. “Why us? Why couldn’t we just be happy, and be together forever the way we should have?! The way we were supposed to!” I point to your picture, and shout at the top of my lungs, “But you’re gone! How am I supposed to live like this? I love you, Lauren! I love you more than anything! I love you…” I cry, shaking.
The hot tears are rolling down my face, and with my blurred vision I run. I run home.
I probably wouldn’t be this way
I probably wouldn’t hurt so bad
I know people are staring at me, but that doesn’t matter. Right now, I could care less. I swing the door open, shedding the clothing off my chest. My blood boiling and my head spinning I pace through the house, and find a pad and pen. I write down a message the tears still streaming down my face.
I never pictured every minute
Without you in it
Oh, you left so fast
I rummage through drawers, looking for the key. The key to the way out. I empty out every drawer in my room, recklessly tear apart my room, and rip open every envelope, forgetting where I put it. My cell phone is ringing, but I ignore it. I roughly grip at my hair, pulling out a few clumps.
I check underneath my bed, groping around for anything. I breathe heavily, the anger growing even more intense by the minute. I get up, carelessly flip my mattress over. Nothing. My cell phone rings again and I hurl it across the room, breaking it into pieces.
Suddenly I remember. I spring over to the nightstand, and turn over your picture. Sliding off the hinges that hold it in place, I let out a cry of victory. I rush to the closet, pushing aside the hanging clothing, revealing a secret door. I open it quickly, pulling out the blue suede box, and laying it on the floor in front of me.
I slowly lift the lid up, telling myself I’m going to do this. It’s the only way…
My hand shakily picks up the cold metal object, cradling it to my chest like a newborn baby. The phone is ringing over and over again, but I’m too busy to rip it from its chord.
The words of all those who thought me to be insane, who said I should move on and forget you, everyone who said I needed help are spiraling through my mind now. But with in a matter of seconds the only thing spiraling through my head will be a bullet. I laugh at my own bitterness and pick up your picture once again, and place it to my chest. With a quivering hand I hold the gun up to my head.
“I’m sorry Lauren, but if this is the only way to be with you,” I say, tightening my grip, “then so be it.”
I shut my eyes tightly, trying to gather my last thoughts. Slowly, I pull more on the trigger.
“Justin?” I hear my mom’s voice and open my eyes. She’s not here, but she’s leaving me a message on my answering machine. I close my eyes again and proceed with my attempt. “Honey I hope you’re home. I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier today Justin, and baby I wanted to really apologize for it. I should understand better. Shame on me, as a mother I should be there helping you through this, not making it harder.”
I try to block out her voice but the love in my heart isn’t allowing me to. “Look, I know I may not quite understand what you’re going through but I guess a part of me just wants to make up for what Lauren would do if she were here. You understand right? I’m sorry baby I really am. I hope we can catch up when you come back home next week… I really miss you. You know I don’t know where I’d be without you Justin, always remember that. Call me back when you get this, ‘kay darling? Bye bye, I love you.”
I numbly let the gun fall to the floor, as I collapse in a heap of cries. For a while I stay like this, feeling a million different things. I gain back my composure, and quickly get rid of the gun. I grab the phone and dial my mom’s number.
“Hello, Lynn speaking.”
“Mom? It’s me.”
“Hey there, sweetie. Did you get my message?”
“Yeah,” I say, wiping away at my nose, “I got it. I love you, mom.”
I can hear her sniffle into the phone. “I love you too baby,” she says, and suddenly my world is fine. “Are you alright honey? You don’t sound too well.”
I pause at her question, wondering what to say. I glance to my left, at the picture on the floor. “Actually mom, I’m not.” And for the first time in months, I don’t fake my answer.
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