Peggy drove her car into the parking lot of the flower store. It was Memorial Day. She sighed. This year she would have three graves to visit. She still wasn't quite sure why she had decided to bury her unborn child. It only brought her more grief on Memorial Day.
She got out of her car and walked to the door of the flower store. She took a deep breath and walked in. She walked through the store and picked out a dozen yellow roses for her husband, a red rose with baby's breath for Angela (what they would have named her), and a bouquet of assorted chrysanthemums for her father.
She walked toward the cash register. Before she got there, she heard a crash from behind her. She turned around. It was Declan. He had somehow managed to topple an entire flower stand.
"Declan!" she exclaimed. Even in her emotional state, she couldn't help but smile at her clumsy friend.
"Hey, Peg," Declan said as he looked guiltily at the flower stand, and then up at Peggy, "So what brings you here?"
"Memorial Day." Peggy said, her smile fading. She didn't have to say any more.
Declan nodded sympathetically, "Same here,"
"I have to...." Peggy trailed off as she motioned toward the cash register.
"Yeah," Declan said as he picked a bouquet up from the toppled flower stand, "me too."
Peggy walked to the cashier and put her flowers on the counter. The cashier put the flowers into a bag and added up the total.
"That's forty-two dollars and sixty-five cents," the cashier said in a monotone.
Peggy pulled her checkbook out of her purse. She wrote a check, tore it out, and gave it to the cashier.
"Thank you, have a nice day. Hello, may I help you?" she finished with Peggy and began with Declan. Declan put his five-dollar bouquet on the counter and pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, to find he only had four. He searched in his pocket and came up with seventy-five cents.
"Hey, Peg," Declan called back to her, "got a quarter?"
Peggy sighed as she handed him a quarter.
"Thanks," he said and handed the quarter to the cashier.
"Thank you, have a nice day," the cashier said.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was out and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but for the mood Peggy was in, it might as well have been raining. She was now on the way to the cemetery, following Declan's truck.
When she arrived, there were many other cars parked in various places around the cemetery. She found a parking space and got out of her car.
"Nice day, isn't it?" Declan said as he got out of his truck.
Peggy smiled weakly. She headed toward the baby cemetery and Declan followed her. He seemed a bit puzzled as they walked through the rows of tiny gravestones, but he soon found out what was happening.
Declan stood a few feet back as Peggy knelt down in front of one of the graves, marked with the name "Angela Fowler", and carefully placed her small bouquet on it. She wiped a tear away from her eyes as she stood up again.
They walked away from the baby cemetery and Declan once again followed Peggy.
This time they arrived at a grave marked "Adam Fowler". Declan again stood back while Peggy placed the bouquet at her husband's gravesite. She fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Declan could see the tears flowing out from between her fingers. It hurt him to see her like this.
On an impulse he walked toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up. The look on her face made him want to cry, too. He figured that she would want to be alone, so he turned and walked away.
"Declan," Peggy called from behind him. He turned to face her. He could see the pleading look in her eyes. She needed someone with her.
Declan walked over and sat next to Peggy. Cautiously, he placed his arm around her and held her as she wept.
They sat there for a few minutes, but after a while, Peggy composed herself and wiped her tears from her face. She picked up her one remaining bouquet and stood up, Declan following her.
Something told Declan that Peggy didn't want him following her to her last gravesite, so they both went their seperate ways.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Declan stood in front of his father's grave. This was no different from any other time he had come to this same place and done the same thing, but something felt different this year.
It almost made him feel fortunate.
Peggy had so much to grieve about. Memorial Day must be really tough for her, especially now that her dad was dead. Now he was standing here, facing a death he had already coped with. He already knew it wasn't his fault.
Might as well get on with it.
He carefully placed the flowers by the gravestone and knelt there for a second, then he got up and made his way toward his truck.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
This was the last grave Peggy had to visit. Thank goodness. She wasn't sure she could handle much more of this.
She studied the gravestone for a second.
Martin Henderson
1937-2001
Martin Henderson, a man she barely knew. She sometimes wondered what it would have been like if she had known him better, if she had *really* had a father. The fact was, she would never know.
So many things were left unresolved; so many questions left unanswered. What if she *had* seen him before he died? Would he have been different? Would he have been a better person than the person who had left her so many years ago?
She sighed and placed her last bouquet by her father's grave. Maybe she wasn't meant to find out, at least not now.
She got out of her car and walked to the door of the flower store. She took a deep breath and walked in. She walked through the store and picked out a dozen yellow roses for her husband, a red rose with baby's breath for Angela (what they would have named her), and a bouquet of assorted chrysanthemums for her father.
She walked toward the cash register. Before she got there, she heard a crash from behind her. She turned around. It was Declan. He had somehow managed to topple an entire flower stand.
"Declan!" she exclaimed. Even in her emotional state, she couldn't help but smile at her clumsy friend.
"Hey, Peg," Declan said as he looked guiltily at the flower stand, and then up at Peggy, "So what brings you here?"
"Memorial Day." Peggy said, her smile fading. She didn't have to say any more.
Declan nodded sympathetically, "Same here,"
"I have to...." Peggy trailed off as she motioned toward the cash register.
"Yeah," Declan said as he picked a bouquet up from the toppled flower stand, "me too."
Peggy walked to the cashier and put her flowers on the counter. The cashier put the flowers into a bag and added up the total.
"That's forty-two dollars and sixty-five cents," the cashier said in a monotone.
Peggy pulled her checkbook out of her purse. She wrote a check, tore it out, and gave it to the cashier.
"Thank you, have a nice day. Hello, may I help you?" she finished with Peggy and began with Declan. Declan put his five-dollar bouquet on the counter and pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, to find he only had four. He searched in his pocket and came up with seventy-five cents.
"Hey, Peg," Declan called back to her, "got a quarter?"
Peggy sighed as she handed him a quarter.
"Thanks," he said and handed the quarter to the cashier.
"Thank you, have a nice day," the cashier said.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was out and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but for the mood Peggy was in, it might as well have been raining. She was now on the way to the cemetery, following Declan's truck.
When she arrived, there were many other cars parked in various places around the cemetery. She found a parking space and got out of her car.
"Nice day, isn't it?" Declan said as he got out of his truck.
Peggy smiled weakly. She headed toward the baby cemetery and Declan followed her. He seemed a bit puzzled as they walked through the rows of tiny gravestones, but he soon found out what was happening.
Declan stood a few feet back as Peggy knelt down in front of one of the graves, marked with the name "Angela Fowler", and carefully placed her small bouquet on it. She wiped a tear away from her eyes as she stood up again.
They walked away from the baby cemetery and Declan once again followed Peggy.
This time they arrived at a grave marked "Adam Fowler". Declan again stood back while Peggy placed the bouquet at her husband's gravesite. She fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Declan could see the tears flowing out from between her fingers. It hurt him to see her like this.
On an impulse he walked toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up. The look on her face made him want to cry, too. He figured that she would want to be alone, so he turned and walked away.
"Declan," Peggy called from behind him. He turned to face her. He could see the pleading look in her eyes. She needed someone with her.
Declan walked over and sat next to Peggy. Cautiously, he placed his arm around her and held her as she wept.
They sat there for a few minutes, but after a while, Peggy composed herself and wiped her tears from her face. She picked up her one remaining bouquet and stood up, Declan following her.
Something told Declan that Peggy didn't want him following her to her last gravesite, so they both went their seperate ways.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Declan stood in front of his father's grave. This was no different from any other time he had come to this same place and done the same thing, but something felt different this year.
It almost made him feel fortunate.
Peggy had so much to grieve about. Memorial Day must be really tough for her, especially now that her dad was dead. Now he was standing here, facing a death he had already coped with. He already knew it wasn't his fault.
Might as well get on with it.
He carefully placed the flowers by the gravestone and knelt there for a second, then he got up and made his way toward his truck.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
This was the last grave Peggy had to visit. Thank goodness. She wasn't sure she could handle much more of this.
She studied the gravestone for a second.
Martin Henderson
1937-2001
Martin Henderson, a man she barely knew. She sometimes wondered what it would have been like if she had known him better, if she had *really* had a father. The fact was, she would never know.
So many things were left unresolved; so many questions left unanswered. What if she *had* seen him before he died? Would he have been different? Would he have been a better person than the person who had left her so many years ago?
She sighed and placed her last bouquet by her father's grave. Maybe she wasn't meant to find out, at least not now.