Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 42: Stormclouds with Pewter Linings

Our hug lasted so long that the awkward angle of leaning over to embrace everyone started to make my muscles ache. I didn't care, though. 

This was the first family hug I could remember us ever sharing, and it felt right that Declan was the one at its center. Especially after everything I had learned about him and his feelings today, a hug felt like less than the bare minimum; something that should have happened years ago.

Eventually, though, my mom must have noticed Declan wincing, because she pulled away from him, forcing everyone else off, too. We all found places to sit in the room so we could talk to him. Dad sat on one of the hospital chairs, Mom took the seat next to him, and me and Ben plopped down on either end of the foot of Declan's bed. 

We talked about surface-level stuff after that. It was mostly just updating Declan on everything he had missed while he was out and telling him about upcoming events. After that, the nurses--at least, I was pretty sure they were nurses--came in to check his vitals, and we left so he could get some rest. 

I thought we would head home. The whole drive back seemed to confirm this very well-founded belief. When we got closer to our house, though, my dad kept going straight instead of turning into our neighborhood. "Change of plans. We have two more stops to make before we go home," he announced without further explanation.

When we pulled into the local flower shop that doubled as Mirton's gardening supply store and event center, I was confused. 

When we pulled into the Mirton cemetery, I was no longer confused.

Actually, I was a little bit gutted.

"Dad...?" I ventured.

We didn't come here. 

Petersons didn't face their problems, not really. Everybody knew that. 

All our recent conversations were unexplored territory for my family. Were we really ready for... this?

"Come on, you guys," was all he said before he hopped out of the car and started toward the gravesites.

The entire car seemed to hesitate as one body, holding its breath as if waiting for the dead to rise. All of our hands hovered, frozen, over the door handles. 

Dad just kept walking.

Ben was the first to move. He pushed the door open and scrambled out with a speed that surprised me. His body language screamed that he wasn't sure he was ready for this, either. Mom and I followed him after a couple more seconds of tense silence.

Even though I hadn't been to Amy's grave since her burial, I knew exactly how to get there. It was like my feet had memorized the map for a place it didn't ever want to go back to. 

It hadn't changed at all, as if time had stopped the moment her casket went in the ground.

In a way, for us, I guess it did. 

The grave was made of gray stone engraved with her full name, Amelia Claire Peterson, along with an engraving of a dove, her picture, and the inscription, "Beloved daughter, sister, and friend." I stopped by Ben's side and watched my dad lower a bouquet onto her gravestone. "What did you get her?" I couldn't help but ask.

My dad ran his hand along the top of the stone, his expression somber. "Daisies, pansies, bellflowers, and baby's breath. At least, that's what the florist said they were."

I knew better.

I knew he had taken a flower arrangement class in college on a whim. He knew exactly what those flowers meant. I wished I did, too.