dandelion // h.s.

e l e v e n

In a matter of days, Boo manages to scrape together something that mostly resembles a funeral. It's a small affair, and Martha's insurance only covers part of the cost, leaving Boo to finance the rest with nearly all the money she's earned from the hardware store. There scrapped any plans she had for an Oscar-worthy job quitting.

The service is held on the morning of May sixth, one day after the morgue delivered Martha's body to Brookwood Funeral Home, and is remarkably unremarkable. Only Boo, the local preacher, several church volunteers, and Janet attend. Janet is accompanied by a doleful-looking Calum, who strangely can't seem to keep his eyes off Boo. Anytime she looks over during the service, she finds that he's already watching her with a hopeful expression. Perhaps he wants to apologize for what he said in Welson's.

Each time she simply turns away and drops her head to hide her face.

Lori doesn't make an appearance for the service. Boo, following Martha's advice for one last time, had sent her the information in the days leading up to the funeral. She'd gotten nothing but silence on Lori's end, an answer that spoke louder than any reply she could've received.

During the service the preacher talks of heaven and earth, droning on about God and the afterlife and being sure to point out that Martha's spirit would live on in glory. Boo is numb to his words. She keeps her eyes to the soft dirt beneath her black shoes - shoes she hasn't worn in years, not since her father's funeral.

She hates these shoes.

The preacher says something about grace and God's compassion. Boo nudges her right toes against her left ones and listens to the small squeaks caused by the rain on her shoes. What kind of god would take away the one person who loved her?

When the preacher is finished, the casket is lowered into the ground. Boo and the other mourners take their turns throwing handfuls of dirt on top of the casket before the hole is ultimately filled in by men with shovels. Boo lingers behind in the cemetery when everything is said and done, taking her time to thank everyone who bothered to show up. She tries to be civil but the amount of pitiful eyes and baby-voiced condolences she receives is sickening. People shake her hand like she's made of glass and Martha's death is the last straw before she ultimately breaks.

Then again, maybe that's true. Boo is the furthest thing from stable right now.

The rain begins as the last mourners leave and Boo is left alone with the headstone. It's small and simple; just a concrete square with Martha's name, birth and death dates, and a generic quote. Martha was never an exorbitant woman by any account, but Boo wishes she had more money to afford a nicer grave marker. Martha was larger than life, who cared deeply for others around her despite her brash way of showing it, but all that remains to show her impact is a measly stone and some silly words.

It's frustrating and humiliating all in the same breath. It isn't long before Boo can't tell the difference between the raindrops on her face and her own tears. She kneels before the headstone, heart in her hands, trying and failing miserably to not completely fall apart.