The Grave Where Hope Lies

by Lisa Broom

A ghostly figure could almost be seen through the mist, the slowly swirling mist made the figure seem to be transparent, elusive almost not there. If you looked away for a moment the mist would thicken, concealing everything more than a handspan before you, making you doubt that anyone was in the quiet graveyard. Then the mist would part for a moment, and a flicker of movement would draw the eye, to see the figure kneel then sit beside the grave leaning on a hand while the other rested lightly on the grass, which still had the look of newly laid grass though it been laid nearly 3 months before.

Though nothing can be heard except the customary sounds of night insects and animals, made louder by the closeness of the mist. The figure by the grave seems to be talking, perhaps whispering, perhaps shouting. A fist pounds on the grave, and the figure looks unerringly toward the full moon overhead and seems to shout *WHY*, but no sound is heard.

The figure looks toward the headstone, continuing the monologue started a lifetime ago.

*Why did I have to push everyone away, that which I feared the most has come to pass in a manner I hadn't considered, and I am alone. WE are alone. There is nothing I can do, perhaps we simply loved too much and feared as much. It's not fair to be so filled with regret, it's not meant to be like this, Nana told me. Nana also told me to live life, I thought I was Nana, I don't know when I stopped. Please. It's not meant to be like this, we are supposed to have breakfast every morning and dinner several times a week, attend functions together, an unofficial couple. I think most people thought we were a couple, some knew we weren't however much they wished we were. We wished we were too, but there was always fear, the same fear over and over in different guises. Fear of being alone, fear over being together, fear of losing, again. We could have conquered fear if we'd worked together, but we couldn't find the courage in ourselves. Why did I never tell you that I loved you.*

Another figure more solid than the first slowly takes shape out the mist and stops at the foot of the grave, the figure is bent and old, far older in spirit than in body, that is what shows the through in the lines on the face and the careful movements of the body. It's not the same figure that stood by the grave 3 months ago to try to say goodbye to a friend, that figure was taller, straighter, not yet bowed down under the weight of grief, still trying to say goodbye to a loved one as he has every night since. The anguish grows more pronounced on his face, he falls to his knees with a cry that echoes through the graveyard, startling in the previous quietness. He doesn't see the figure beside the grave, he doesn't see anything except the grave.

She moves to him, she wants to hold him to comfort him, but she only passes through where she touches him. Feelings of helplessness overtake her as she watches the man she loves grieving for her as she has done every night. She can only kneel beside him and keep this lonely vigil with him. Caught in her own web of grief as she watches him slowly dying and knowing there is nothing she can do, it's too late.

The mist closes in around the figures by the graveside totally enclosing them, the graveyard is silent once more. Silent and empty ......

.... The figure in the bed turns restlessly in the light of the stars from the window which provides the only illumination in the dark of night. The silver light reflects off her skin making her seem to be made of porcelain, the bright titian hair a contrast against the dark sheets. She turns, waking with a gasp as though she was short of oxygen, her heart was pounding. Then she remembered and nearly cried with relief.

"It was only a dream" she muttered to herself over and over. Then realization came, "I can't... *won't* let it happen." She propelled herself out of the bed grabbing her robe and wrapping herself as she went. She knew where she needed to go and what she needed to say, there would be no more fear.

She pressed the buzzer to his door, when he opened it she walked straight in. He turned to her with a puzzled and slightly concerned expression on his face, she took his hand and gently pulled him back towards his room. On the threshold she finally spoke the words she'd been wanting to say for 15 years.

"I love you, Jean-Luc" and sealed their fates forever with a kiss.

The End