Forever Is Not Forever
One.
The gate stands there with its broken hinges, ivory covering the looming black fence and twisting between the bars like a maze. Winter is coming, the cold air already causing the little green vines to shudder and become brittle. Even the cobblestone path leading inside the field shows signs of winter, the cracks seeming deeper and the color draining away with each passing moment. Despite everything in me screaming to turn around, to disappear back into the warm car and never look back here again, I force myself to take steps toward the gate.
My hands grip either side of the gate, pulling on them and letting them fly open with the horrid creaking sound that makes me grind my teeth. I never could understand why places like these were always filled with such a deathful air and sounds that could make a person shiver. My feet still trudge on forward and I pass all the little gray and black stones that mark the ground for those who lie there. The walk feels like an eternity, but I have somehow managed to not run back yet and convince myself that I am okay and move faster.
In a few minutes, it’s there. Tall, cold, and gray. The giant wall of nothing but tombs to those who couldn’t afford a lot in the cemetery stood in front of me and easily makes me feel tiny. I count as I pass the rectangular plaques, each no more than three inches apart from the next. Twenty seven down and eight up, there it is. I had expected to cry, but I didn’t. Instead, I stare at the little plaque that reads the name of her, the year she was born, and the year she died. My grandmother had always been a mother to me, after my mother disappeared in the wind one morning and left me alone. It had been her and I for seventeen years and now it’s just me.
She was famous in our little town with not a single place of popular brand name. More so, her line that she always said whenever she spoke to someone. I don’t know the story of where she got it or if she just thought it up, but it was something I heard so often in my life, that I got into the habit. I can’t help but wonder right now why the little quote is on her plaque when it’s nothing but a lie. Forever is all we have.
Only, forever is not all we have.
She didn’t have forever.
My hands grip either side of the gate, pulling on them and letting them fly open with the horrid creaking sound that makes me grind my teeth. I never could understand why places like these were always filled with such a deathful air and sounds that could make a person shiver. My feet still trudge on forward and I pass all the little gray and black stones that mark the ground for those who lie there. The walk feels like an eternity, but I have somehow managed to not run back yet and convince myself that I am okay and move faster.
In a few minutes, it’s there. Tall, cold, and gray. The giant wall of nothing but tombs to those who couldn’t afford a lot in the cemetery stood in front of me and easily makes me feel tiny. I count as I pass the rectangular plaques, each no more than three inches apart from the next. Twenty seven down and eight up, there it is. I had expected to cry, but I didn’t. Instead, I stare at the little plaque that reads the name of her, the year she was born, and the year she died. My grandmother had always been a mother to me, after my mother disappeared in the wind one morning and left me alone. It had been her and I for seventeen years and now it’s just me.
She was famous in our little town with not a single place of popular brand name. More so, her line that she always said whenever she spoke to someone. I don’t know the story of where she got it or if she just thought it up, but it was something I heard so often in my life, that I got into the habit. I can’t help but wonder right now why the little quote is on her plaque when it’s nothing but a lie. Forever is all we have.
Only, forever is not all we have.
She didn’t have forever.