A Quest West
Losing Sanity
We twirled the short grass in our fingers as Ann rested against our lap. Her breathing was fainter and fainter by the second. Peter started to dig, we faced the other way as I stroked her hair. I spun a tale both from the top of my thoughts and the stories of generations past. I couldn’t tell if she was listening wholeheartedly, or already half gone. I ended the story with a happy cliché. I might have almost smiled, but the shovel was thrust at me. Peter’s eyes were red and empty, however, no tears shown with his broken emotion. The wooden handle splintered in my grasp. I hit the spade into the dirt.
“Why do we bury them beneath the earth? Only closer to the devil? I want to wrap her in the clouds. I want to watch her spirit watching over us,” I inquired of myself. I could hear Peter singing to Ann. Another talent he must have hidden from us. The makeshift grave grew deeper until it was all we needed. I didn’t stop yet though. Maybe I was thinking that she couldn’t leave until I had finished, maybe I wasn’t thinking at all, and that was really what I wanted.
I hit the end of the shovel into the earth so that it stood up and joined Peter in the final note of the song. Ann whispered a musical echo into the abyss and brought another tear to my blurred eyes. I wanted her last moments to be meaningful, the last words spoken and heard to be worthwhile, I wanted her last breath to be of clean air and white roses. Mostly I didn’t want it to have to be the last.
“Say something, Ann,” I pleaded. I wanted to know her exact last thoughts.
“Live,” she responded.
“What? What do you mean? Live like we’re dying? Don’t give up? Simply move on with life? Don’t leave us Ann!” The words spiraled through the air like they had been rehearsed a thousand times.
“We love you,” I whispered, making sure that it was the last thing she would hear, clarifying that she better know we meant it more than anyone could know. Her final breath shuddered out and her eyes were left unblinking, staring toward the heavens, watching her own soul go.
Peter and I placed a simultaneous kiss on her cheek. A wail of grief burst from my lungs and then I was more silent than ever. Our tears softened the dirt as we lowered her down. I took the first page of her diary and laid it in her palm. Peter put his whole journal in with her and I pinned her hair back with my jade clip.
“I am going to make her words famous someday,” I promised as I clutched her book to my chest. “She will never be forgotten, never, never, never.” The word was repeated until it was less meaning and more memory. “Never, never ever, forever.” I started ranting until I swear I went insane for a moment. She was gone. She is gone. Therefore I am gone.
“We need to go back,” Peter whispered, interweaving the words through my sobs. There were tears glistening in his eyes too. We stepped in unison and both began to run. He never looked back. Perhaps it would be easier if I could say the same for myself.
“Why do we bury them beneath the earth? Only closer to the devil? I want to wrap her in the clouds. I want to watch her spirit watching over us,” I inquired of myself. I could hear Peter singing to Ann. Another talent he must have hidden from us. The makeshift grave grew deeper until it was all we needed. I didn’t stop yet though. Maybe I was thinking that she couldn’t leave until I had finished, maybe I wasn’t thinking at all, and that was really what I wanted.
I hit the end of the shovel into the earth so that it stood up and joined Peter in the final note of the song. Ann whispered a musical echo into the abyss and brought another tear to my blurred eyes. I wanted her last moments to be meaningful, the last words spoken and heard to be worthwhile, I wanted her last breath to be of clean air and white roses. Mostly I didn’t want it to have to be the last.
“Say something, Ann,” I pleaded. I wanted to know her exact last thoughts.
“Live,” she responded.
“What? What do you mean? Live like we’re dying? Don’t give up? Simply move on with life? Don’t leave us Ann!” The words spiraled through the air like they had been rehearsed a thousand times.
“We love you,” I whispered, making sure that it was the last thing she would hear, clarifying that she better know we meant it more than anyone could know. Her final breath shuddered out and her eyes were left unblinking, staring toward the heavens, watching her own soul go.
Peter and I placed a simultaneous kiss on her cheek. A wail of grief burst from my lungs and then I was more silent than ever. Our tears softened the dirt as we lowered her down. I took the first page of her diary and laid it in her palm. Peter put his whole journal in with her and I pinned her hair back with my jade clip.
“I am going to make her words famous someday,” I promised as I clutched her book to my chest. “She will never be forgotten, never, never, never.” The word was repeated until it was less meaning and more memory. “Never, never ever, forever.” I started ranting until I swear I went insane for a moment. She was gone. She is gone. Therefore I am gone.
“We need to go back,” Peter whispered, interweaving the words through my sobs. There were tears glistening in his eyes too. We stepped in unison and both began to run. He never looked back. Perhaps it would be easier if I could say the same for myself.
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