A Pit of Flowers

        “So, what’s the catch?” these where the words echoing in grace’s mind as she stared blankly down at the brown wooden box that her grandfather now laid in. He always used that same phrase when people would share bad news with him. He knew there was always good and bad, but more importantly he knew that there was good in the bad. All you had to do was find it, and that is exactly what she was struggling to do. It had been almost an hour since the funeral had ended, and she was still stuck staring at the cemetery plot surrounded with empty chairs and a table overflowing with bouquets only a few actually having his favorite, tulips.

“He said he would always be there.” Grace mumbled to herself under her breath. She stared at her pile of dirt, the pit six feet into the ground, the brown wooden box, and the grey stone with her grandfather’s name carved into the top. She couldn’t understand how these things were all she had left of her best friend. The person she had spent her whole life with, he was the one who taught her everything her parents didn’t. Grace looked around the cemetery, hoping to see him jump out from behind one of the tall, thick trees yelling “I really fooled you this time Gracie”. She looked at the leaves blowing in the wind, the chipped trunks of the old grown out trees hoping to see him, but he wasn’t there. She looked back at the wooden box. Thinking that if she left now, before the box was covered in dirt, that maybe she would see him at the breakfast the next morning. Reading the newspaper and eating his regular toast and eggs.

           “Can we leave now?” She turned to her dad, Tim, he was also staring at the box. She fiddled with the white petunia in her hand. She supposed to have thrown it into the pit during the ceremony with everyone else. Instead, she still grasped it tightly in her palm.

           “Not yet Grace,” Tim Replied, “they’re still saying goodbye”. Grace watched as her mom and grandmother stood on the other side of the pit talking to the wooden box and wiping tears from their eyes.

           “How can they say goodbye when he’s not here?” Grace said. Tim paused shifting his feet.

           “Well honey, even though he may not be here with us. He can still hear us.” Grace’s mother, Mallory replied quickly glancing up from the ground.

“No, he can’t.” Grace mumbled back as she stood still her black dress was now starting to soak in all of the afternoon heat. She pulled the obituary out of her pocket flattening the thick cardstock so she could see the picture of her grandfather. Her eyes fell on the bold letters across the top of the page, “Neil Lewis, Celebrating the life of a great man”. Grace stared at her grandmother, her pale, uncolored face. Her parents said she hadn’t slept much in days. How was she supposed to “Celebrate the life” of her husband when she can’t get a full night’s sleep. It didn’t make sense to celebrate life when the person is no longer living.

She looked back to the picture, he was smiling, happy and hopeful. She was there when the picture was taken, it was the annual family camping trip. They had just set up the tents and Grace and her grandfather were just about to play a game of Jenga. He loved camping, being in the outdoors. Grace would go with on weekend trips to the campground where him and her grandmother would go hiking and play games of cornhole and ladder toss. He would play pranks and tell jokes, he could always make Grace smile, even when she hurt or upset.

And now all she saw was a wooden box. She would never get to joke or talk with him at all anymore. She wouldn’t get to see him or give him a hug. He was gone. She couldn’t help but feel it was unfair. Not only to her but to her grandfather. He always said, “Gracie, you never seize to amaze me, what are you gonna do next?”. Only now Grace knew he would never get to see what she would end up doing.

“How is it fair dad?” She turned up to Tim.

“What do you mean Grace?” He replied.

“He’s gone, he’ll never get to see what I do next. It’s not fair.” She told him blankly.

“Honey, Grandpa will still see what you end up doing. Even if he is not there physically, he’ll still be with you. He’ll always be looking over you.”

“You don’t actually believe that do you.” Grace turned the petunia in her palm looking at rest of the flowers that were at the bottom of the pit.

“Grace.” Tim said sternly looking at her mother who was now watching Grace closely.

“I mean it, he’s dead, he gone, he’s not here anymore, that is what being dead does.” Grace said absently not realizing everyone had turned their focus onto her.

“Grace that’s not true,” Tim replied, “Grandpa is just in another place now. And that doesn’t mean he is not going to be with us.” He was now watching as her mother reacted to what Grace’s had just said and he could see the frustration growing as she took her mother's hand.

“No, that is not true. You’re either here or you’re not. You can’t be here while being Somewhere else” Grace quickly responded still staring at the bottom of the pit and at the now growingly distasteful wooden box.

“Grace, now” Tim started to reply before getting interrupted by Grace.

“No. Why would I say that he’ll always be there, when it’s not true. You’re telling me that even though he is dead now that he’ll always be looking over me. That he’ll still be there.” She could feel the anger overwhelming her entire body. “When I know it’s not true. How can you prove that?” She Paused “When all I can see is a pile of white flowers laying on a box.” Grace stopped taking a deep breath of the hot afternoon heat. She looked at her father, but then her eyes locked onto her mother, who looked as still as a stone statue. Her face was bewildered, angry, and disconnected. Grace’s anger instantly faded and was replaced by the exhaustion she was sure her family had felt.

“I’m sorry” Grace said softly. She turned and walked over to the rows of black plastic chairs. Sitting quietly as her exhaustion mixed with feelings of grief and guilt. She was looking at her feet swaying them lightly over the grass when she saw a shadow slowly covering her. She gazed up to see her grandmother looking at her with a soft smile.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” Her voice was soft and calm. Grace shook her head and shifted slightly holding the white petunia lightly in her fingers.

“I’m really sorry grandma, I didn’t mean to say all of that. I just don’t understand why” She started to say but before she could finish her grandmother took her hand.

“I know it’s difficult. Facing death is the hardest part of life.” She paused “But it’s true, those who we lose will always be with us. No matter where we go. Or what we do.”

“But how do you know that for sure? When I’ll never be able to see him or talk to him.” Grace replied looking down and running her fingers over the soft petals of her flower.

“Because he is a part of who you are Gracie.” Grace looked up and stared as her grandmother continued. “Your Grandpa loved you, and you meant so much to him that he put parts of who he was into you. With his humor, his kindness and generosity, and most of all his compassion.” Grace smiled beginning to feel lighter than she had before.

“Are you two ready to go?” Grace’s mother asked and looked towards the car; she reached her hand out to Grace.

“I just need to do one more thing. You guys can go ahead, and I’ll catch up with you.” Grace said and she stood watching her family start to leave. She slowly stepped over to the table and trading her white petunia for an orange tulip. She walked over and stood looking into the pit a final time and gently releasing the tulip.

“Thank you” She whispered.