February 19
We’re going to the cemetery today. Yesterday after school I stopped by the florist to pick up some flowers. I hope Damian doesn’t mind.
He’s been quiet all morning. He didn’t stay over last night; in fact, he left before eight. I don’t remember him even kissing me when he came in this morning.
I wonder if he told his dad what we’re doing today. He said Dr. Lowell used to go to the cemetery every day and sit there until midnight, but Damian didn’t know when the last time his dad had been out there.
It makes me wonder…who will visit my grave? When? Will I have a steady stream of flowers for a few years and then be forgotten? You know, I’d be okay with that. It would mean they’re moving on, like I have. Dying is just another journey, one which we all will take.
I worry about my parents, though. Mom and Dad’s lives have centered around me. They need each other.
And Damian. It’s been two years since his mother and Liam passed away, and he has yet to cope. Leslie’s prophecy can’t come true. Whether or not Damian’s ready for this, he needs to let go. The healing process has to begin—for them.
And for me.
“You ready?” Damian leaned against the door jamb of my bedroom. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his hair gel-less, and his blue eyes lighter than usual. From the stubble poking out from his face, I wondered if he’d slept at all.
I glanced up at him and nodded, tucking my diary under my pillow.
“No wonder girls take so long to get ready.”
“I got dressed, just like I said.” I grabbed my purple scarf from the bottom of my bed and wrapped it around my neck.
“Among other things,” Damian teased, adjusting my scarf in the front. “You look beautiful.” He kissed my cheek and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. His chin rested on top of my head.
Against him, even through his sweater, his heart pounded in my ear. His arms tightened for a few seconds before he let go. Without a word, he took my hand and led me down the stairs.
I grabbed the flowers off the counter. When I spun around, he averted his gaze to the floor and reached for the doorknob.
In his BMW, I slipped off my gloves and placed my hand over his.
The trip to the cemetery was quiet. He didn’t even have the radio on. His focus stayed on the road, and his lips remained taut.
I peered out the passenger-side window. The city moved in a hurry, yet I saw it all in slow motion. Cars didn’t speed by. People didn’t rush into the stores. I peeked over at Damian, the corner of his upper lip set between his teeth.
With all the cars on the interstate, the road seemed empty except for us. We made our way out of the city and onto a deserted county highway. The snow-covered fields glistened in the sun, and icicles hung from the trees like Christmas lights.
Damian made a right turn into the cemetery. He drove almost to the end of the lot before coming to a stop in front of the fence line. His lids squeezed shut as he took his hands off the wheel.
“I can’t do this.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, grabbing a fistful at the top.
I brushed the side of his face, the roughness catching a little on my gloves. “Yes, you can. I’m here for you.”
I watched him sit motionless for a few moments. When he didn’t put the car in reverse, I relaxed and scanned the surroundings.
The first thing that caught my attention was the large elder tree in the corner of the cemetery. Even without the shade of the leaves, the tree was spectacular. It leaned a little to the right and branches sprouted off everywhere, but something about it filled me with peace.
Two headstones poked up under the tree. Neither of them large or fancy, but the gray marble seemed to glow brighter than the rest. Somehow I knew they belonged to Nora and Liam.
My attention shifted back to Damian. His eyes were open now, staring straight ahead at the sea of snow.
“Hey,” I said, taking his hand. “Ready?”
He didn’t respond, so I reached for the door handle.
“Wait.” Damian tugged at my hand, stopping me. “Just give me another minute, okay?”
I closed the door and leaned back against the seat. Remembering the flowers in the back, I twisted my body and scooped them up, laying them on my lap. My other hand never left Damian’s hold.
Finally, Damian sighed. He looked at me, his irises cloudy. Letting go of my hand, he took the flowers from my lap and opened the door. I waited until he rounded the front of the car to follow him out.
He stood on the edge of the gravel path facing the elder tree. When I came up next to him, he slid his hand into mine and began to walk forward. The crunch of the snow under our feet echoed off the stones, filling the crisp air. Above us, the clear blue sky reflected the ice plastered to the tree branches.
Damian slowed his pace as we inched closer to the gray marble. The other headstones faced the entrance to the cemetery while Nora’s and Liam’s pointed toward the tree. Feet from them, Damian stopped and took in a deep breath.
“It’s okay,” I said, leaning my head against his arm.
He nodded and made his way around to the tree, keeping his head lowered. My gaze shifted up before Damian’s. The almost identical stones gleamed back at me.
On the left was Nora’s; on the right, Liam’s. Along with their names, each stone had etched in the middle perfectly matched symbols to Damian’s tattoos. The cross for Nora, the brotherhood arrow for Liam.
I studied Damian’s expression. His eyes glistened in the sunlight, fixated on the symbols. His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw.
“You didn’t know, did you?”
He shook his head. “Dad did all of it. The arrangements. Everything.” His voice was barely audible.
With the flowers still in his grip, he dropped to his knees, letting go of my hand. The flowers fell to the snow-covered ground as Damian buried his face in his palms.
I knelt next to him, not caring about the cold creeping through my jeans, and rubbed his back.
“I’ve started to come here so many times, but I always chickened out. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
We sat on the cold ground, staring at the gray stones. Every so often, Damian would lean his head on my shoulder.
“The tree is beautiful,” I said, after we’d been sitting in silence for awhile.
“It’s why Dad chose this place. The elder tree represents transition—moving on from this life to the next. Mom would have loved it.”
Ten minutes later, he reached for my hand and smiled. “Thank you for making me come here.”
We stood up, and Damian placed the bouquet of flowers on the ledge of his mother’s stone. He kissed the top and whispered something I couldn’t hear. For his brother, he fist-bumped the brotherhood symbol.
“Miss you, big brother.”
The wind stirred up behind us, making us both shiver. Damian chuckled, leaned down and kissed me. The cold air gusted around us this time, circling its pleasant chill on all sides.
Damian pressed his forehead against mine. “I think they approve.”
He winked in the tree’s direction before we walked to the car and drove away.