Blurred Memories

Zander drives along the highway, white knuckling the wheel for who knows how long. The radio plays soft tunes, adding a gentle atmosphere underneath the pure nerves building in his stomach. His limbs are stiff. He can’t bring himself to relax. His girlfriend, Hana, must notice as she places a comforting hand on his thigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” she asks. Zander briefly glances at her, noting her furrowed brows before returning his attention to the road.

“Yep. Yes.” He stretches his shoulders and smiles, attempting to at least appear relaxed. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

They continue in silence for a moment longer, but Zander can feel the anticipation radiating off Hana as she considers what else to say. He chews on his bottom lip and winces as he bites a raw area. 

“You know, you didn’t have to do this if you didn’t want to,” she states.

“I agreed to do this. I’m fine.”

“But you’re not. It looks like you’re gonna lose the feeling in your fingers.”

Zander flexes his hands. In the few years they have been dating, Zander should know that Hana can read him like a book. He likes to think he can hide how he’s truly feeling, but with Hana, he’s now aware he wears his heart on his sleeve, much to his dismay.

“Look,” Hana continues, “you didn’t have to agree, but I think this will be good for you. You’re always talking about visiting.”

“I know. I know. I’m just not good with this… emotional stuff.”

Hana hums. There is an amused undertone to it. “‘Emotional stuff.’”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. And that’s why this is good. You can’t keep your emotions bottled up.”

Zander rolls his eyes. “You’re always so sappy.”

“You love that about me.”

He laughs softly and begrudgingly admits, “Yes, I do.”

Finally, their exit appears ahead. His heart leaps in his chest as he realizes how close they are. Years have passed since he last visited. He always thought he just needed time, but was he ready now? He certainly didn’t feel like it.

Zander guides the car around the curve of the exit, slowing it down as they reach a stop sign. There aren’t many other vehicles on the road. It’s clear that this little town is rather small, though the McDonald’s on the other side of the road is busy. His stomach growls and he looks at the clock; it’s one in the afternoon and he hasn’t eaten yet. For a moment, he contemplates pulling in to get some food, as well as to procrastinate (though he won't admit that). However, he also wants to get this done as soon as possible. So, despite the protest in his tummy, he drives the other way.

“Is this where your grandparents used to live?” Hana asked. Modest houses pass them by, unassuming in their appearances and giving off that small-town charm.

“Yeah. They lived here their entire lives, and it was where my mother grew up, too.”

“Why did she move?”

“Small town, I guess. There were better jobs elsewhere. My grandparents never wanted to leave, though.” Zander sighs when he sees a familiar curved metal sign, marking the entrance to the local cemetery. “That’s why they were buried here.”

As he pulls the car onto the gravel road, the butterflies in his stomach increase tenfold. He wants to keep his gaze straight ahead, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he scans the cemetery for the familiar grave markers.

After a bit, they park in the gravel lot outside a small, one story building, presumably meant for a keeper. Hana and Zander exit the car, the doors clicking shut behind them. 

Zander breathes deeply, taking in the damp spring air. The sky is covered in clouds, and a cool breeze ruffles his hair. The ground is noticeably wet from the rain that fell earlier. Hana approaches and entangles her hand in his. She is carrying a couple bouquets of pink and white carnations, which they bought on the way there. 

“Are you ready?”

Zander thinks. “No, but I’m here.”

Zander guides the way, vaguely remembering the path to his grandparents’ graves. They pass a number of gravestones, the names on which Zander does not recognize. He wonders what lives they had, who loved them, and who they were. Do their loved ones still visit? Some of the graves have fresh flowers, but others are empty. His heart aches with the acknowledgement that they have been left here all alone. Maybe only for a few months, maybe forever, but neither option appeals to him.

He leads Hana to two copper plaques stuck to stone bases. A little bit of moisture clings to their surfaces, but the inscriptions are easy to read. William Boyd, November 18, 1938 - April 26, 2018. The other grave marker reads Dorothy Boyd, January 21, 1937 - September 2, 2016. The names of his grandparents, a memorial of who lies beneath. It has been several years since he saw these markers. Zander tightens his grip on Hana’s hand, and she squeezes back.

“My grandmother died before my grandfather,” Zander explains, though that is clear enough on the inscriptions. “He was devastated.”

“They must have loved each other very much.”

“Yeah. He wasn't the same after. A little sadder.” Zander takes one of the bouquets and crouches before the markers. He places it on his grandfather’s marker while Hana follows suit, placing hers on his grandmother’s. They remain like that in silence. He chews on his lip again. He feels empty, like there is so much going on inside him he can’t feel anything at all.

“They visited us a lot when I was a kid,” he eventually said. “We only lived, like, 20 minutes away. Sometimes, they surprised me with chocolate and pastries after school. Once, they even gave me my first tablet. It’s a miracle I’m not a spoiled brat.”

Hana laughs. “You have your moments.”

Zander lightly slaps her, but laughs along. He sighs as vague memories flood back to him. His countenance falls when he realizes he only has blurred recollections of who his grandparents were. Hana hugs his arm and leans into him, providing comfort.

“My grandfather did try to visit often after she died, but he was  old. I remember… that they loved me a lot, you know? But I can’t… I can’t remember anything specific. It’s all… fuzzy.” Zander swallows hard. “Is that bad?”

Hana thinks for a moment. “No. I think as long as you know they loved you, that’s all that counts.”

He wrings his hands together nervously. “I don’t want to forget them.” There are already enough people there that have been forgotten. 

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I lost mine a while ago, too, and I still think about them.”

Zander scoffs. “Yeah, but at least you didn’t ignore them for years.”

Hana doesn’t say anything else, only tightens her hold on his arm. She waits for him to continue, so he does.

“You don’t avoid visiting their graves. You don’t make excuses that you’re busy, or you’ll do it later, or you don’t want to bring it up. You always go there at least once a year.” Frustration builds inside him, a bubbling torrent of regret and guilt and shame. How did he have the audacity to show his face after all this time? Tears build in his eyes and he tries to blink them away.

“But you’re here now. I think they would appreciate that,” Hana says. Then, before he knows what’s happening, the dam breaks and a choked sob escapes his lips.

“I-I wish I came here sooner. I was t-too s-scared.”

Hana throws her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He gasps and heaves in gulps of air. His face burns of grief as tears pour down his cheeks. He remembers their funerals, and how broken his grandfather was during Dorothy’s. He remembers clinging to his mother as she wept, and then doing the same during his grandfather’s funeral. He never actually cried at either until it came time to pay respects by placing a flower on their urns. It felt like he was saying goodbye. Then, he remembers touching the urns one last time before leaving the cemetery. Maybe it was an attempt to leave behind something permanent. He doesn’t know exactly why, but it felt good. 

Zander did invite his mother to come with them for the visit, but she declined. He is sure she hasn’t been there in a while either. Maybe she isn’t ready. Like Zander, maybe she doesn’t want to face the reality that his grandparents are gone. 

One distinct memory trumps over the rest, a depressing thought as he watched the graveyard disappear behind him after each funeral. It was the first time in a long time that his grandparents were left alone.

When he finally calms down, his knees ache from crouching for so long. So, he stands, wiping his eyes as Hana follows. She keeps her arms around him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he lets himself take a few more uninterrupted breaths. He stares at the graves again. Strangely, he feels lighter, like a great weight had been taken off his chest.

“Thank you,” he says to Hana. 

“You okay?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.” He rubs his eyes again, trying to get them to stop stinging. “I don’t know if I can go. I’m afraid to leave them alone again.”

“What would they want you to do?”

Zander considers the question, turning it over in his mind. “They’d want me to move on, I guess. They weren’t the kind of people who liked to dwell on the past. It… it keeps you stuck, I think that’s what they said. They also wouldn’t want me to be afraid.”

“We can stay longer if you want,” Hana suggests. Zander turns to her, a soft smile on his lips.

“I think I’m good.” He huffs out a laugh as he says, “I’m kind of hungry anyway.”

Hana grins. “I saw a McDonalds earlier. We can go there.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” However, as they begin to go, Zander turns back to the graves. The carnations ruffle lightly in the breeze. Without any hesitation, he steps up to the markers and touches them both. They're cold and damp, though he still lingers for a few seconds. The moisture gathers on his fingers as he pulls away. With a light heart, he entwines his hand in Hana’s. “Okay, now we can go.”

As they return to the car, the clouds remain, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain anymore. At least, not anytime soon.