Bequest:
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The act of giving, leaving by will, or passing on to another.
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Something that is bequeathed; a legacy.
Bequest : Chapter Twenty One - Hope
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The granite was smooth and shiny, giving an appearance of polish, of control. For all its fluid etchings and inscriptions, the surface was cold, unyielding and final.
Martha
Kent
Treasured Wife. Beloved Mother. Faithful Servant
of Christ
1933-2008
The stone had been carved years ago when his parents had drawn up their wills and made their mutual arrangements. Beside his mother's name, etched into the finely polished stone was that of Jonathan Kent. The gravestone had remained untouched for all of these years, until today when a date had been added to the hyphen that represented his mother's time on earth. The font was the same in depth and size but its newness tore at Clark's heart reminding him of the last time he'd beheld this stone.
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His
mother's hand had slipped into his, the pressure of her grip having
little effect on his invulnerable flesh, yet somehow still managing
to crush him. She had stood by so proudly and with such grace,
bearing all things, as her heart was lowered into the ground. Then
with a few whispered prayers, his father's funeral had ended.
Friends and loved ones had given their last hugs and offered what
words of encouragement they could and then they too faded with the
light of the setting sun. The wind had picked up and despite the
summer season, he saw his mother shiver slightly and wrap her shawl
more tightly around her shoulders. Clark had pulled her to him,
turning to bear the wind at his back, wishing somehow the action
would shield her from this moment. His mother's tears had soaked
silk of his tie, as she had turned her face into his chest and
released a violent series of sobs, her frail shoulders shuddering
with their force. He had held her as tightly as he dared,
waiting out the storm, completely helpless. He couldn't blow these
clouds away. This storm would have to be weathered. And then as soon
as it they had come, the sobs quieted and his mother had straightened
herself to every inch of her petite stature and looked at the
gravestone of her husband and smiled. "I'll see you soon,
my love." She had whispered. "Are you alright?" he
murmured, his voice nearly inaudible. Martha unceremoniously
wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "I
will be." With that she had dropped a single red rose into
the earth and nodded to the cemetery employees to begin their duties.
Clark raised his head, his eyes scanning the cemetery and finally coming to rest on two men in slate grave uniforms who stood off at a respectful distance.
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The casket rested on shiny aluminum bars, connected to a pulley system. In a dichotomy of life and death, flowers had been strewn about its closed lid in a riot of colorful blossoms, casting a joyous façade on the symbol of loss.
Building tears fled from where they had gathered down onto Clark's cheeks as he closed his eyes.
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The remainder of the funeral service had passed in a blur, every sight and sound molding together into the gray void of his sorrow. Save one. The sound of the casket closing was burned into his ears, destined to replay over and over again. He had heard the soft squeaking of the gears as the lid closed and the light faded from his mother's face. He had been unable to resist the temptation to expand his vision in an attempt to catch one last look. The material of the casket had held up under his piercing gaze. Lead lining. For a moment a wry smile flitted across his face at his mother's choice even now to always make him look to the future rather than back into the past.
Click
Clark's shoulder had jolted so much at the sound, that Lois had reached out to steady him, her small hands braced against the tense muscle of his arm. Her fingers had slid down his arm, clasping his hand in both of hers. Even now as they stood in the emptying cemetery, her hands had not released him from her charge.
To his right Clark vaguely noticed Ben drop his flower onto the casket. With a whispered declaration of love, he began a slow shuffling walk toward the waiting limousine. The events of the past week seemed to have aged him twenty years as he gratefully allowed Richard to help him into the car.
On either side of him stood the ones that were now his family, Lois on his right, holding him up with so much more than her hands and Jason on his left, his head bowed in stoic silence that stretched beyond his young years.
Jason reached into the small pocket of his little suit coat and produced a folded piece of yellow construction paper. He carefully unfolded it, smoothing out the creases as best he could. Lois and Clark leaned forward as one.
The contents of the paper held a youthful expression of life on a farm. The house was simple and welcoming, including a yellow scribble Clark supposed to be Shelby. In front of the farmhouse stood three happy stick figures standing hand in hand, two were tall and in the middle the smallest figure wore the largest smile. Its large eyes gazed heavenward where a cloud hovered just above. A tight patch of white scribbles gathered to form a cloud at the feet of Martha Kent who gazed lovingly down at them from her perch. All around her were angels, their limbs launched out in every direction in some variation of the same dance. In the center of the drawing the sun shone brightly on both sets of figures. Below in dark blue lettering Clark read;
'To: Grandma. See You Soon!! Love: Jason.'
Jason tilted his head toward Clark, seeking his approval. Clark smiled through his tears and nodded.
The cherub-face boy stepped forward and gingerly laid the paper across the lid of the casket, laying his flower a top the paper to hold it down. He then scrambled back to his father and slipped his tiny hand into Clark's.
The trio stood there silently and slowly the sounds of the day began to break through to Clark's hearing. The haunting finality of the casket lid was fading to be replaced by the reverent song of a nearby morning dove. The wind rose and brushed the stray locks of hair from Clark's forehead and he lifted his face to its caress.
Lois gently reached up and dried the last tear from his cheek.
"Are you alright?" she whispered.
Clark looked from Jason to Lois finding the hope for his future shining in their eyes. He took a deep breath and offered her a shaky smile.
"I will be."