The Ashes Of What Once Was

“Hey, mom.”

A quiet wind blew through the cemetery, disturbing the various plants nestled among tilted headstones that sunk into the soft dirt. Rain from the previous night had turned the hard ground and dust to a muddy mixture that coated the bottom of the women’s heels in a thick paste.

“I know you hated being sentimental,” Ichika whispered, “but it’s your birthday, so I think you should forgive me this once.” 

Ichika stepped forward, holding firm against the ground threatening to topple her, and placed a bouquet of flowers on the ground in front of the tombstone. The plastic crinkled as it settled against the ground, forming to the mounds of dirt and mud beneath it.

The cemetery was serene, rarely disturbed with only the occasional gift from the living to the deceased, but it was only a curtain that could be pulled back to see the true horrors of the dead’s residency. Some believe there are places where those that don’t live to reside on either side of life, and yet the muted atmosphere was only a guise for the chattering of souls never to be at rest. Life was too short to not have any regrets and all those who the living hoped were at rest lay very much aware of every footstep, breeze, and squirrel above them. Their bodies decomposed quickly and their emotions just as fast. Angry and afraid, they festered six feet under the ground-dwelling on all that occurred during their life. 

Ichika suspected that her mother was one of those spirits, drowning herself in whiskey as she pointed out the fallacies of the world.

“I also brought this.” Ichika slid one strap of her purse down her arm, plucking a slim bottle with a wax seal and an engraved label out of her designer bag and setting it against the headstone. The stems of the flowers she chose hid the bottle well enough that it’d take a while before any teenager spotted the bounty and took it from her mother. “Caris thought you would like some. No need to say thank you to me, but you can say thank you to my wife.”

Ichika reached forward and brushed her fingertips on the cold stone, fingers dipping into the engraving of her mother’s name and the day of her medically announced death. After suffering from severe brain cancer -- it was inoperable, had no symptoms until her biopsy, and her facial features changed as her skin slid down her cheekbones -- she was forced to remain in a hospital on an almost constant stream of tests. 

A tear slid down her cheek and Ichika leaned away from the headstone, surprised, as she wiped her palm under her eye, feeling the tear drag across her face. 

“Well,” Ichika said, tears working their way into her soft sob, “you won, mom. I know I said I wouldn’t miss you, so I guess karma really is a thing.”

The woman grunted as she stood up and walked over to the headstone, crouching down before settling down next to the headstone. Her coat created a separation between the dirt, the bars of prison for every inmate of the cemetery, and she laid her folded hands upon her lap. 

“I still remember that day you died,” Ichika told the grave.” How you stubbornly refused any resuscitation and stated it was your time to go. That hurt, you know? I had just gotten married, graduated, and we were looking into -- and I know I didn’t tell you this part -- sperm donors. I was hoping my baby would have a grandma she could see but I...I understand now. The pain of knowing how short your life was going to be...and seeing...and seeing us all move along without impediment. You’ve always hated staying still. 

“I’m sorry that it all ended like that,” she continued, “but I wanted to come today to tell you some stuff. You don’t have anywhere to be, so you’ll have to listen this time. And don’t say that dad was always better at emotions because he’s at the mausoleum and the sun can’t shine in there. I wish...sometimes I wish that I was as kind as you, mom.”

A small laugh broke free of her lips and one hand reached up to cover her mouth out of habit -- her mother’s words about how a lady must always be in control of herself echoing in the back of her mind. “Or if I could listen to any of your advice. Even though you and Caris weren’t on the best of terms, she admired you for how incredible you were at hiding any trace of emotion. Although at the end, I don’t think you had much control over it.”

It was almost a feat of magic for how her mother transformed at the end of her life. Jewel-toned skin that had once stretched over severe, angular features began to drape over her cheekbones and sag under her eyes. Her brown eyes that once sparkled like sand glistening under the unforgiving sun dimmed, losing their life with each passing second. She was a portrait of serenity with a back as straight as a board and eyebrows that could cut steel and there wasn’t a person alive that could look her right into her eyes when she was angry. 

Ichika swallowed, tears burning the back of her eyes, and she dug her fingers into her leather purse to keep herself from crying. Before her mother got sick, they had an argument. An argument that ended with her eloping and running away from her mother and any semblance of her past life to start a new one with Caris. 

“I-I’m,” Ichika paused, blowing out a ragged breath before continuing, “I’m sorry, mom. I know you only ever wanted the best for me, even if you didn’t agree with who I married at first.”

Ichika waved her fingers over the top of the damp grass covered in small drops of dew. The call from the nurse still rang through her head, the unforgiving words running through her mind and never giving her any respite for what she had subconsciously wished would never come. When the nurse called to let her know that her mom was only taking a breath every thirty seconds, Caris drove her to the nursing home while taking quick glances at Ichika wiping sweaty palms over her jeans. Her mom was barely conscious when they got there, skin on fire, and eyelids firmly shut as she took a shuddering breath twice a minute. Ichika was only able to walk into the room with her arm clutched around Caris. They both fell to their knees next to her mom’s bedside and each of them took one of her hands. And then, she was back in the cemetery, her mother’s cold body buried under six feet of soil.

“Mom?” Ichika whispered. “I heard your apology that night and...I forgive you.”