Unexpected

Headstones

After the final notes of the song had faded away I went effectively mute, silent tears running down my face as the pole bearers came forth and carried the caskets away. The hearse was already waiting for us and I followed after them to the cemetery, leading the long line of cars of mourners. It was like my throat had constricted on me, cutting off even my sniffles.

The pastor said a few words before the burial, each person placing a flower in the graves before the first dirt was thrown over the tops of the shiny coffins. I stood by the gravesides as the proceedings took place, watching as the mourners came and went until even Aunt Lori and Uncle Greg had left, leaving only Nat, Steve, and I. My legs were wobbly as I stood in front of the two new patches of dirt headed by the polished, new headstones, reading what was carved there through stinging eyes that could no longer produce tears:

Sheryl Bonnard and Jacob Bonnard.

These names shouldn't be here. It wasn't right. It couldn't be possible that here is where they were laid to rest.

I hadn't even noticed that I had started crying again, though it was more like harsh, heaving breaths since I had already run out of tears, until I felt a hand on both of my shoulders. Steve's larger hand rested gently on my quavering right shoulder, letting his warmth sink into my skin as I sank down to my knees, my legs finally giving out on me. Natasha's smaller hand squeezed my left shoulder, her thumb running back and forth over the fabric of my dress. Neither of them rushed my mourning, waiting until my breathing steadied again and I pushed myself back up to my feet, brushing off the flecks of fresh earth that clung to my shins as I did so.

"Thank you," I rasped, my voice broken and thin as I looked between them, "Thank you for coming and... and for staying with me. It really means a lot to me that you both were here."

"Of course." Nat said, her lips quirking with emotions that she was trying to cage inside, sympathy flooding her eyes as she saw me trying to piece myself back together.

"Um, how long are you two staying in town?"

"Not much longer unfortunately..." Steve answered, "We only got the day off, so we're going to need to fly back today..."

I nodded. Part of me had hoped they'd stay a day or two, but that wouldn't make sense. What would they do here? There really wasn't much in Muskegon besides its close access to Lake Michigan... and it was February. Beaches are not the best when freezing rain could pelt you at any moment. Would they sit in my grandparents' home with me as I sorted through piles and boxes and worked on selling and donating my late grandparents' possessions? No. It was best for me to do that alone.

Steve shoved his hands into his suit trouser pockets, looking over at a line of headstones with military flags nestled beside them, "How long will you stay here?"

"I don't know... maybe an hour more..." I sighed tiredly, my gaze slanting over to the graves again. It felt like I couldn't leave them yet. "Then I have to talk to the director aga-"

"No, Penny." Nat interrupted gently, her tone soft, "He meant in Muskegon."

"Oh." A faint pinkness brushed my cheeks, "I think it'll take another week. There's just so much legal stuff and then readying the house for selling, so I'll be back by next Monday I think. I don't want to think about how full my inbox is going to be when I return."

Neither of them chuckled at my small attempt at humor. What did emails matter when standing beside the headstones of my dearly departed? Even I could hear just how hollow the attempt at my normal humor sounded.