I was amazed by how quickly Mike and I were able to arrange everything. It was because of our money, really, because we could pay for everything so quickly, but it still amazed me. We arranged everything, setting a wake for two days later and the burial a day after that. We chose a wide array and great spectrum of flowers. And then we went to find a casket.
They were all beautiful, shining and incredibly morbid. We agreed on one which we thought Amber would've liked, an old style, which was tapered. It was a rich mahogany color and a had a bit of a pinking finish to it that you could just barely detect under the right light. It was perfect. We also agreed that they only needed one casket, that they should be together, and we were able to arrange that.
Shortly after that we drove with the funeral director to the cemetery and he showed us a number of available areas where they could be buried.
I was getting sick. I could feel the pain rise in my stomach and felt that I would vomit. It was wrong. All of it was so wrong.
Why? Why was I searching for a fucking gravesite? I should've been at home redecorating a spare room for our son. I shouldn't have been looking for a place to bury my daughter, but a place to play with her in our house. I should've been trying to find a vase so that I could buy Amber roses. I should've been in tons of other places and enjoying myself, but no. I was in a goddamn cemetery because they were dead and they were gone forever.
Mike showed me where Amber's mother was buried. I could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at the headstone, and I felt a deep hurt and sympathy. His wife was dead, and now his daughter. I wondered which felt worse…losing your wife and then having everything get better only to lose your daughter years later…or losing them both all at once.
I stared at Lydia's grave. I could just see it, just picture Amber sitting there as her younger self, kneeling there, smiling, talking to the stone and playing with her hair in its natural color, dark chestnut like in the pictures she'd shown me. She had always been very beautiful. And what a waste of life…of beauty. I cursed whatever higher power may have existed, cursed nature, cursed whatever form of evil could create such a beautiful creature only to destroy it.
The tears threatened me again, causing me to clench my fists and my jaw and ease in the deep breathing, trying to control myself. I had to control it, keep myself from breaking down all the time. It was coming to terms with myself and what happened; I had to learn, to deal with things appropriately instead of crying like a little girl.
"Kane?" I pried my eyes away from the grave and turned to Mike. His face was drawn out and weary as well. He lazily lifted one of his arms and pointed. "Over there…it's a place where the two sites can see each other. Is that okay?"
I sighed. "Perfect…"
Hate hate hate.
But it wasn't perfect…the whole thing wasn't perfect. I felt sick and wanted to go back to the car, so we did. Everything was set and ready. I was going to go back to Mike's and take a shower and then I planned to get drunk. It's sad when you get to that point…when you want to throw yourself into a stupor and plan out your doing so. But it was what I was doing and no one was going to stop me.