Death Ceremony

It was a bright, warm day as I made my way through Nana’s woods. I hugged my mom’s urn closer to me with one arm as I climbed the hill leading to the place I would lay her to rest. In my other arm was a pear tree sapling. Behind me was Aunt Leslie, who carried my dad’s urn, and his sapling. The funeral procession consisted of Aunt Leslie, her girlfriend Lucy, Wyatt and Mabel, my only friends, along with neighbors, followed slowly behind us.

I sighed, thinking of the classes I had missed and the assignments I was dreading to do later that afternoon. Then I remembered I was clutching a baby tree and the container that held my dead mother’s remains. What kind of woman thinks about homework during her own parents’ death ceremony?

I squeezed my eyes shut. I kept doing that, calling the funeral a “death ceremony.” I had first uttered the words to my aunt when discussing what my parents had wanted. Aunt Leslie was just as confused as I was, though I knew I only said it because the voice in my head had told me that’s what magical creatures called funerals.

I could sense magical beings all around us. It wasn’t the trail of neighbors that were following me, but the creatures of the forest. I had my first encounter with magic when I was seven in these very woods. It was after my first day of school. I had always loved coming to Nana’s and Papa’s, to wander through the trees and run as fast as I wanted. I was extremely fast for a child, and I learned quickly to control my speed in front of other people. My soccer coach thought he was having a stroke at my first practice when he made us run warm-up laps. The other children were so disappointed our practice had been canceled, so I promised myself never to use my full abilities in front of anyone ever again.

Anyway, after school, I walked to Nana’s and went straight to the woods, so she couldn’t ask me if I had made any friends. I hadn’t had the heart to tell her no, though I did try to befriend a troll, who didn’t want to hear he was a troll. So, while running at full speed through the trees, I stumbled upon a wounded water nymph who was scared, starving, and bleeding. He had a gash running all the way across his belly, and he was trying to hobble away from me. In a bark bowl, mash up sage, lavender, and Aloe Vera to make it a paste. Apply to the wound, sealing it with a bandage or large leaf.

“What’d you say?” I asked the frightened creature. He let loose a nervous squeak, then fainted from fright. I didn’t know what else to do but listen to whoever told me to prepare a bark bowl. Sprinting to the nearest tree, I ripped off a chunk of bark, then started into the forest on the hunt for lavender and sage. How odd that I would need a plant that shared my name.

“Sage?” Aunt Leslie whispered behind me. I had stopped in front of the spot I wanted to plant the pear tree. I turned to meet her tired, brown eyes, and she gave me a kind smile. The crow’s feet that appeared around her eyes gave me comfort. Aunt Leslie resembled my dad immensely.

“Sorry, thinking about mom and dad,” I lied. I wasn’t thinking about mom and dad because to think of them was to feel very little towards their deaths. It was as if the sadness I was trying to feel was getting muddled with anger. Instead of crying for my loss, I’d feel a fury like none other, and now wasn’t the time to sprint full speed through the trees. Also, when I think of my parents, it reminds me that they weren’t my biological parents. I had learned I was adopted at the reading of their will.

I knelt and started digging the holes with my hands as my neighbors began sharing stories with each other about the deceased. The names Ryan and Nikki floated through the air and danced around my ears. Anger started to flare up in my belly, but I just kept digging, glancing at the pear tree containers to quickly measure how much deeper I needed to go. The gentle laughter of the small group of people relaxed me a bit. Upon hearing their names again, I couldn’t help but think of the moment the word “adopted” had left the attorney’s mouth, as if I had already known the information. Aunt Leslie looked ready to serve the man with a quick punch, but I just shook my head at my aunt with a grin.

I wasn’t surprised at all to learn I was adopted. It didn’t make me love my parents any less or view Ryan and Nikki as any less of the role models they were to me. Ryan and Nikki were my parents, the people who raised me, loved me with all their hearts, even when I did scare them with my talk of magic. This was why I wasn’t angry or surprised to learn I wasn’t made by two humans. I could see, sense, and heal magical creatures. I was also incredibly strong and fast. Not to mention the voice in my head who would constantly try to enlighten me every time I met a new magical being. I never understood why I could identify magic, even when they resembled a human. I’m sure the voice would have informed me if I hadn’t spent my whole life trying to block it out.

I finished digging the holes and readied Nikki’s urn as Aunt Leslie held up Ryan’s. I stood to face the group of eleven people.

“Ryan and Nikki Freethrow were the kindest people you could have ever met. There was never a problem they couldn’t fix. They would not rest until everyone else around them was happy and fulfilled. April thirteenth, the world suffered a severe loss of two of the most pure-hearted and kind people,” I paused as a couple of people lost their composure.

“We will now lay them to rest as they requested. ‘Just plant a tree in me,’ mom had said. ‘Yeah, me too,’ dad chimed in.” I hesitated as the crowd laughed quietly. “Well, I hope they were serious because that’s what we are here to do today. Once laid to rest, if you’d like to come up and share a story about mom and dad, please feel free.” I turned toward the hole and opened the urn. Squatting, I poured the ashes out slowly, Aunt Leslie mimicking my actions. I grabbed the pear tree around it’s thin, baby trunk and for a moment felt as if I was grabbing my mom’s hand one last time. I planted it firmly in the ground, covered the top of the root ball with soft soil, and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, feigning emotion, and stood as Aunt Leslie enclosed her arm around my waist and guided us toward Aunt Lucy.

“You’re a natural, Sage.”