The Cemetery - XII

Part 1

Amelia

cont.

Even though our parents and uncle were buried in the same cemetery Fredrick and I never ventured there to pay our respects. It never crossed my mind to when I was young until I noticed, in passing the cemetery one summer day, that people visited the graves. I asked Fredrick what they were doing and he just brushed off the question. I learned after that about people visiting the graves of their loved ones to pay respects to the dead, or to simply say hellos or goodbyes. When I could I ventured to the cemetery from time to time to find my parents grave markers. They were situated in the southside away from a large amount of the others. Sometimes I would put flowers down, ones that my mother liked, or that I fancied on the day. Nothing too special.

                My brother’s grave and statute that he had created in his likeness from a portrait was not placed anywhere near our parents. I think somewhere in him was a contempt for our parents in their passing. He had a hard time of living with our uncle when we were young, most memories are just a flash for me but I could see a fire in his eyes whenever the old man’s name was brought up. I learned not to speak of the dead around him after that.

                It took me a day’s search of the large cemetery to find my brothers resting place again after the first day. Being as I was lead to and from and the spot during the burial I was at a loss finding it the next time I ventured in the rain. The gloom of the day set a ache deep in my heart and muscles as I walked amongst the graves. I felt an oppression on my mind and skin that I couldn’t’ account for. In retrospect I’m sure it was the phantom but then I believed it was the weight of loss holding me fast.

                In the torment of loss I rambled among the dead for what felt like hours searching for my brother’s image. I remembered vaguely through tears what the statue looked like, but in the new day I couldn’t find the correct path. Betwixt memories flashing before my eyes reminding me of his face and his voice I was lost in the gray of the present moment. I was lost until I felt a presence. The wind seemed to pick up and whip past me and I felt my heart grow heavy with emotion. As I blinked away the tears I saw my brothers visage through the mists. To my weak eyes it appeared to be him in the flesh standing with hand outstretched towards me beckoning me forward. I moved forward with haste to greet him in my pain but was quickly greeted not by my brother but by his statue. It was a simple statue of him sitting in a chair in contemplation as he often was.

                In that moment I wasn’t sure if the vision of his flesh and face were simply an illusion of my tormented mind or a ghost that was trying to communicate with me. Soon though I would have my answer.

                Over the next few weeks I would visit my brother’s statue to converse with him and explain my plans for the future. In his death he had left me a sizeable sum with which to carry on my life without him. I would not need to want for much as my life progressed. I was bequeathed his home and his belongings, as he had no adherents to claim much from his estate. All his wealth and servants passed to me, though I relieved most except his steward whom I had come to hold as a friend since his passing. With this security I was left to do whatever I pleased within reason but I could not put my heart into any endeavor. So I hoped that speaking with my brother would help shed light on a possible path. For weeks I spoke with him with no answer until one night in dreams when I finally heard him speak to me.

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