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I don’t think she would be so cruel, but you never know.
Is Mother Gaia the one in charge of reincarnation?
Grand-Mère said when a witch dies, our body returns to the earth and our spirit is welcomed by Mother Gaia, but what if she was wrong? What if after we die there’s nothing? Despite working at a funeral home, I never gave much thought to what happens when we finish our journey. After seeing death almost daily, I suppose I was desensitized to it.
Until recently, I’d never dealt with death personally.
My parents died when I was too young to register it. I barely remember anything from back then. Still, Grand-Mère taught me that my parents were with us. It wasn’t just hopeful rhetoric—she believed that.
There has to be something after this life.
If only the raven were here to answer that one. Okay, maybe I am losing my grip because if the raven wasn’t long gone, I might’ve expected an answer from him.
The uncertainty of it all is heartbreaking.
Or maybe I just need sleep before I start in on some other impossible-to-tackle philosophical questions. The midday sun is causing my vision to go blotchy. I blink hard and wipe my watering eyes before I get back to making my way through the cemetery.
It takes another few minutes to find what I’m looking for–a double-wide headstone that reads ‘In loving memory of Gilbert & Celine Dumont.’
I sink down onto the grass next to it, the dry patches scratching my bare knees as my dress rides up. Brushing my hand over the slab of polished granite, I draw a deep breath.
“Hey, Papa. Hey, Maman. It’s been a very long time.”
In reality, it’s only Dad that lies here. Mom was buried in the mausoleum with the rest of the witches, as per tradition. Still, they wanted both their names inscribed here. My grandmother always told me my parents were so in love they couldn’t stand to be apart—in life or in death.
I can’t imagine a love that transcends lifetimes.
I’d settle for a love that lasted over six months. Hell, after the dry spell I’ve had lately, a single wild night with a near-stranger would be good—a mysterious stranger who brings me to orgasm until I pass out because I can’t take anymore…
And he’s gone before I wake up the next morning.
Yeah, that’s something I’ll fantasize about for the rest of my single days.
My mental wandering comes to a screeching halt when I remember where I am. Yeah, enough of that. Talking randy at my parents’ gravesite is not on the docket. I came here to say my last goodbyes to my family, but now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say to them.
How do I say goodbye to people I never knew?
“I miss you guys,” I finally say.
It’s only a half-truth. I mostly miss the idea of what it would’ve been like to grow up knowing my parents. I was so young when the vampires took them from me, I barely understood what I had lost.
That came later.
It came with each birthday and graduation and childhood spat and heartbreak. I missed them with each new first I desperately wanted to share but couldn’t, reminding me all over again of their absence.
And now the person who was there for every one of those milestones is gone. The sting of tears clogs my throat, and I push to my feet. “Take good care of Grand-Mère for me, okay?”
I weave my way through the headstones, back the way I came. I want to believe my grandmother is at rest now… that her energy has been dispersed back into the ancestral pool like she taught me. I want to believe that I’ll see her in the flowers that bloom each spring, or in the fuzzy little caterpillars that morph into vibrant butterflies.
I don’t want to be alone.
Tilting my head back, I stare into the clear sky and let the tears fall. Is my family up there looking out for me?
“Grand-Mère? Are you there?” I ask, selfishly praying to Gaia for some kind of answer or sign—anything to let me know she hasn’t left me completely alone in the world.
A buzzing in my pocket nearly gives me a heart attack.
I yelp and when I fumble my phone out of my pocket, the caller ID displayed on the screen reads: C. Crane.
