In Lieu of Flowers

The room smelled of roses. Cloying and sweet, the scent hung heavy around the room and seemed to stick to the skin and clothes of those gathered to remember Jack Amberley.

His bright light was extinguished early Saturday morning when a semi-truck crossed the centerline on Eagle Run Road, killing the 35-year-old upon impact. The death was ultimately ruled an accident, as the truck driver suffered a stroke at the wheel, causing him to lose control of his vehicle and veer into the opposing lane. Unfortunately, such news did not soften the tragic blow of Jack's sudden departure and the Amberley family slipped into the deep depths of grief.

Samuel answered the door and first received the news from the police officer. Two years younger than Jack, his sandy hair and freckled face gave him an All-American, boyish look that lent strangers to believe he was much younger than his 33 years. After taking in the officer's words, Samuel sank to his knees in disbelief and debilitating heartache. Why? Why Jack? It was the younger Amberley brother who often found himself in less than desirable situations- in fact, Samuel often expected his wild nature to cut his own life short. After graduating near the top of his class, he had hoped to become a successful journalist. However, a life-long struggle with depression and alcohol abuse lead Samuel down dark roads— his dreams slipping away. The past few years found him no stranger to speed traps, drug experimentation and other risky endeavors— including multiple relationships with salacious and troubled women. Such behavior, plus lack of steady employment led him back to his childhood home. Mother and Father welcomed him with open arms, but the judgment hung heavy. "Why can't you be more like Jack?" they queried critically.

Be more like Jack. That one phrase stuck with Samuel and embedded into his psyche like a thorn. Of course, both Mother and Father loved their younger son, he was just more difficult to like. Jack excelled in both academics and athletics. Samuel struggled with his grades and preferred the arts. There wasn't a student in high school or college that didn't know and find Jack genuinely wonderful— his sweet disposition was truly unmatched. Samuel, on the other hand, was mostly quiet and had a small, close-knit group of friends whom he confided in. Despite their differences, both boys maintained a strong bond, with Jack remaining a pillar of strength for Samuel to lean on in his times of darkness.

But Jack was gone now. And those roses overwhelmed the senses. The Amberley family specifically did not ask for flowers. Mother knew they would only rot, leaving even more death in their wake. So, in lieu of flowers, was written in Jack's obituary. Instead, they listed a few of his favorite charities, and encouraged people to support local businesses beloved by Jack. But still, the flowers- mostly roses- arrived by the armful.

Visitors packed tightly into the funeral parlor. Individuals from every walk of Jack's short life paid their respects— family, friends and coworkers fondly recalled memories and stories about Jack. Despite all the grief and pain that filled Mother's heart, she felt a strange sense of peace knowing her boy was so well loved. She was exceptionally close to Jack, even as a grown man, living on his own, he always confided in her.

Her inner monolog was interrupted, as a strange woman entered the parlor and made her way towards Samuel. Slim, tan, and generically pretty, her otherwise mundane features were offset by wild, cascading black hair and a large tattoo of an owl wrapped around her upper arm.

The tattoo struck Mother with a strange wave of sorrow. She remembered a young Jack and Samuel, settling in around a campfire, each boy fabricating an outlandish, scary tale that brought hours of laughs and smiles. However, it was Jack who wriggled his way between Mother and Father in their sleeping bag later that night, fearful of the "screaming ghosts'' outside their tent that Samuel spoke of earlier. Mother chuckled, she soothed her son and told him it was not, in fact, a noisy ghost, but a barn owl- she had seen one earlier that day. Displeased, Jack scrunched his nose and vowed to "hate owls forever" and tell his future children to hate them too.

The memory tapered off and brought Mother back to reality. Who would've thought, such a silly memory would bring such immense pain. Jack would never have the chance to have children at all. Looking over at the woman again, she now noticed Samuel's expression of anger and annoyance.

Mother's mind began to reel. "How dare one of Samuel's whores show up. I bet she is the one who he spends all his money on, that purse looks too nice for her to be able to afford." The venomous thoughts continued to build in Mother's mind.

From afar, their conversation looked strained— crossed arms and stiff posture. It looked as if Samuel warned the woman to leave, or at the very least expressed great displeasure of her attendance at Jack's viewing.

Overwhelmed with a strange cocktail of grief and seething anger, Mother made her way over the silently quarreling pair. There was no need for a spectacle. Through tight lips she clipped, "Samuel, might you introduce me to your friend?" The word "friend" was filled with poison.

A bewildered Samuel answered, "She's not my friend. She—"

Mother seethed, "That is enough. I don't have time for your lies. This isn't the first time a woman has made an untimely appearance in your life.

"I am sorry to intrude, Mrs. Amberley, my name is Beth, it is —" the woman attempted to speak.

"No, I am sorry. I don't have time for you and any trouble you intend to bring. This is my Jack's funeral." Mother interjected sharply.

A stunned look crossed Beth's face. Turning away from both Mother and Samuel, she slowly made her way out of the parlor.

Time passed and the crowds subsided significantly. Only a handful of close friends and immediate family members scattered around the parlor now, engrossed in personal conversations. Sam watched in disbelief as Beth, no longer by herself, walked back into the visitation area, making her way to Jack's casket.

Mother ceased to believe the very gaull of this woman. Now that the parlor remained largely empty, she didn't mind making a scene. Quickly, she made her way across the room, intercepting the young woman.

"I understand you may not have the basic human decency to respect a family in mourning, but you need to leave and spare yourself the embarrassment of having the police called to personally escort you out." The words flowed quickly, full of anger. Mother's emotions flooded out. "You and Samuel can talk later."

"Ma'am, you are correct. I am here for your son, but it is not Sam." She spoke slowly, her voice saturated with a strange sadness. Mother watched as she bent down towards the carpet.

In her anger and grief, Mother had somehow missed the toddler clutching onto the woman's legs. No older than two years of age, the child - a girl - looked at Mother with hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. Thick, curly locks of raven hair framed her cherubic face. In her chubby hands, she carried a fleece comfort object- a blanket, pale yellow and covered in pastel shapes.

For Mother, time stopped at that moment.

It looked nearly identical to the swaddle she wrapped Jack in as an infant. It seemed to be aged the same as well, with slightly frayed edges and a little discoloration.

Beth spoke strong and clear, "This is Rose. I thought it was important for her to see her father one last time."