he’d kiss my forehead and say goodbye, and that his smile
would be the last thing I saw before I left this world. How can my
son be gone before me?”
Hearing the sorrow in the woman’s voice
reminds me of the reason I came here. I see that she has dragged my
suitcase inside, and I grasp the arm of the sofa to help myself
stand. A wave of dizziness hits me, but I ignore it as I walk
toward the suitcase and fall to my knees. Unzipping the small
carry-on luggage, I carefully retrieve the bubble-wrapped urn.
It occurs to me that this is the last time
that I’m going to hold my husband.
I’m really going to lose him forever
now.
As my hand tenderly caresses the curve of
the container, I realize that I have never loved Grayson as much as
I do in this moment. Tears touch my eyes again. Now, long after he
has departed from this world, I have finally been able to learn who
he truly was.
And he was beautiful.
It means everything to me that I have gotten
a chance to understand the true motives behind everything he did.
Despite what anyone else believed, I always knew that there was a
good soul inside that man. I always knew that there was something
pure and full of love inside him, even when he was distant and shut
down.
It breaks my heart to think of how the world
twisted him up.
Grayson could have been someone great. Of
all the men I’ve ever met, there was something truly special about
my husband; so special that I was willing to overlook his every
flaw.
And now he’s gone.
All that’s left is a pile of ashes in a
decorative urn that I now hold in my hands.
I bite my lip as I gently remove some more
of the packing material. The urn is silver in color, and there is
mother-of-pearl inlaid in slender rings around the canister. It’s a
lovely design, but it’s cold and artificial to the touch. I would
give anything to be able to touch Grayson’s warm skin instead of
this inanimate flask. I would give anything to wrap my arms around
his strong shoulders and cuddle against his neck, and feel the
gentle prickle of his stubble. I would give anything to listen to
his heartbeat and feel his chest rising with deep, invigorating
breaths. I would give anything to hold his hand.
How could a man be reduced to dust so
easily?
Maybe we’re all just dust, anyway. It’s our
natural state; the state to which we are all heading. Someday the
whole planet will be dust, and what will any of this matter? Every
day we manage to stay alive is just delaying the inevitable.
A sound distracts me from my morbid
thoughts. I hear a soft whimper coming from behind me, and I turn
to see Grayson’s mother crying.
“Is that—is that him?” she asks
tearfully.
I nod, rising slowly to my feet. There is a
bit of pain in my knees and weakness in my legs, but I don’t care
anymore. I move over to the woman and hold out the urn. “This is
yours, Mrs. Scott. Grayson’s will stipulated that I should bring
his ashes to you after his passing.”
She smiles through her tears as she accepts
the urn. “My son did love me after all. He wanted his final resting
place to be close to his mother. Brad can’t take him away from me
anymore. No one can.”
Large droplets of water roll down her cheeks
and splash down onto the vessel as she holds it tightly against her
chest. I don’t know if I have the heart to tell her that Grayson
meant it as an insult.
The old woman moves to a small, worn-out
fireplace. She lovingly places the urn on the mantle. “Now we can
finally be a family again; for eternity.”
The word gives me a little shiver. “Brad
said that Grayson wanted you to have the ashes because he hated
you. That Grayson said the only way he’d return home was in a pile
of ashes...”
“Brad said that?” the old woman scoffs.
“What would he know about the love shared between a mother and her
child? Brad never had a mother. Not a real one, anyway.”
This piques my interest. “He didn’t?”
“He was a curse,” the old woman
would be the last thing I saw before I left this world. How can my
son be gone before me?”
Hearing the sorrow in the woman’s voice
reminds me of the reason I came here. I see that she has dragged my
suitcase inside, and I grasp the arm of the sofa to help myself
stand. A wave of dizziness hits me, but I ignore it as I walk
toward the suitcase and fall to my knees. Unzipping the small
carry-on luggage, I carefully retrieve the bubble-wrapped urn.
It occurs to me that this is the last time
that I’m going to hold my husband.
I’m really going to lose him forever
now.
As my hand tenderly caresses the curve of
the container, I realize that I have never loved Grayson as much as
I do in this moment. Tears touch my eyes again. Now, long after he
has departed from this world, I have finally been able to learn who
he truly was.
And he was beautiful.
It means everything to me that I have gotten
a chance to understand the true motives behind everything he did.
Despite what anyone else believed, I always knew that there was a
good soul inside that man. I always knew that there was something
pure and full of love inside him, even when he was distant and shut
down.
It breaks my heart to think of how the world
twisted him up.
Grayson could have been someone great. Of
all the men I’ve ever met, there was something truly special about
my husband; so special that I was willing to overlook his every
flaw.
And now he’s gone.
All that’s left is a pile of ashes in a
decorative urn that I now hold in my hands.
I bite my lip as I gently remove some more
of the packing material. The urn is silver in color, and there is
mother-of-pearl inlaid in slender rings around the canister. It’s a
lovely design, but it’s cold and artificial to the touch. I would
give anything to be able to touch Grayson’s warm skin instead of
this inanimate flask. I would give anything to wrap my arms around
his strong shoulders and cuddle against his neck, and feel the
gentle prickle of his stubble. I would give anything to listen to
his heartbeat and feel his chest rising with deep, invigorating
breaths. I would give anything to hold his hand.
How could a man be reduced to dust so
easily?
Maybe we’re all just dust, anyway. It’s our
natural state; the state to which we are all heading. Someday the
whole planet will be dust, and what will any of this matter? Every
day we manage to stay alive is just delaying the inevitable.
A sound distracts me from my morbid
thoughts. I hear a soft whimper coming from behind me, and I turn
to see Grayson’s mother crying.
“Is that—is that him?” she asks
tearfully.
I nod, rising slowly to my feet. There is a
bit of pain in my knees and weakness in my legs, but I don’t care
anymore. I move over to the woman and hold out the urn. “This is
yours, Mrs. Scott. Grayson’s will stipulated that I should bring
his ashes to you after his passing.”
She smiles through her tears as she accepts
the urn. “My son did love me after all. He wanted his final resting
place to be close to his mother. Brad can’t take him away from me
anymore. No one can.”
Large droplets of water roll down her cheeks
and splash down onto the vessel as she holds it tightly against her
chest. I don’t know if I have the heart to tell her that Grayson
meant it as an insult.
The old woman moves to a small, worn-out
fireplace. She lovingly places the urn on the mantle. “Now we can
finally be a family again; for eternity.”
The word gives me a little shiver. “Brad
said that Grayson wanted you to have the ashes because he hated
you. That Grayson said the only way he’d return home was in a pile
of ashes...”
“Brad said that?” the old woman scoffs.
“What would he know about the love shared between a mother and her
child? Brad never had a mother. Not a real one, anyway.”
This piques my interest. “He didn’t?”
“He was a curse,” the old woman
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