The Mourning After

The Mourning After

by Cleve Taylor

Jerald laid the white rose on Marilyn's grave in the Lake View Cemetery overlooking Carson Lake. The flat marker that she was allowed and her parents had ordered had not yet been installed, and only a small white card in a metal frame giving her name and date of death gave any indication that she had ever lived.

Only twenty three years old, freshly graduated from the University of Maryland, a contract to teach in an Arundel County elementary school, and a ring on her finger showing her engagement meant nothing to the meningitis that had accosted her like a thief in the night and taken her life two days later.

Her death was a shock to everyone, but especially so to Jerald, her betrothed, who was devastated and not sure that life without Marilyn was desirable or even possible. His tears splattered down on the small hill of dirt running the length of her grave which would soon be flattened and covered by turf contributing her resting place to the overall greenery of the cemetery's design.

Weak at the knees Jerald knew he needed to sit down or he would soon be on his knees on the damp ground by her grave. Walking dejectedly with downcast eyes he crossed over to a concrete bench that he had seen earlier between the lake and the edge of the cemetery, not noticing that the bench was already occupied until he was only a few feet away.

Slightly startled, he mumbled an apology and looked to see if another bench was nearby. Slowly he realized that the young woman sitting on the bench was speaking to him, telling him that it was alright to share the bench, unless he was looking for conversation to which she would not commit.

Half hearing, Jerald did hear the offer to share the bench and he slumped down on the end of the bench, propped his elbows on his legs, leaned his face into his hands, and sat there with his eyes closed, the only movement was the tears that leaked from his eyes into his hands and ran down his forearms wetting his shirt sleeves.

"What was her name?"

"What?" realizing that the young woman was speaking to him.

"You must have loved her very much. What was her name?"

"We were engaged to get married, Marilyn, Marilyn was her name. Dammit, she was only twenty three, so young, so full of life, so loving. And just like that, gone. Why? It's not right. Why her?" he said imploringly looking up at the sky as if someone were there.

"She knows you are here, and she knows that you care. It is good that you have come here to say goodbye."

"That is kind of you to say, but that is hard to believe." He looked at her more closely, saw that she had red eyes, and realized that she too had been crying.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm going on about my loss without giving any thought to what you might be feeling.". "I 'm Jerald, by the way, and you are…? He left it hanging.

" Janice, Janice Barnes," she interjected.

" I, I lost my fiance."

"How recent? Where is his grave?" he asked, looking out across the graveyard in the general direction of Marilyn's grave and the lake.

"Oh, he's not dead, I lost him to his law partner and he moved in with her and her daughter."

"I'm sorry, I just assumed that he was deceased."

"That's alright. After all, we are in a cemetery."

They talked, with less and less grief betraying their words, until Jerald realized the time and remembered that he had a large German Shepherd at home who needed to be taken out for a walk.

"Oops, I have to go take care of a dog," he said. "Do you come here every day? Perhaps I will see you here again."

She smiled. "That's quite possible."

He waved as he left. He was halfway to Severna Park before he realized how much better he felt after talking with Janice. She really did understand, and he really did want to speak with her again. He wondered why he lied about the dog, but then he shrugged it off.

The next day he visited Marilyn's grave a bit earlier than he did the day before, so he had time to visit the little lake that was the centerpiece of the cemetery. It was quite beautiful and he was becoming more adjusted to the fact that Marilyn was gone forever. He wandered among the graves looking at the names of the deceased as he neared Marilyn's.

He stopped suddenly at a marker for Janice Barnes. "Maybe for an aunt or cousin," he thought. Then he looked closer. He realized she was only twenty-four years old when she died only a month ago. "*LOVING DAUGHTER of Mike and Patti Barnes" it said. Jerald looked up and saw Janice sitting on the same bench as yesterday. Strange, he had not seen her arrive.

He stopped, placed a new rose on Marilyn's grave. Still no marker. He stood there for perhaps ten minutes succumbing to pure sorrow. Then he shook it off and went to the bench to visit with his new friend.

He asked Janice if the Janice buried there was a close relative. She hesitated, then said softly, "Sort of."

"She was very young. What did she die of?" he asked.

In a whisper she offered, "suicide." Jerald wasn't sure he heard her, "What was that?" he said to get a repeat. "Suicide," she said only slightly louder.

Realizing that this was not something she wanted to talk about, Jerald changed the topic and they talked again 'til dusk. He again left before she did.

They met three more times before Jerald realized that she wore the same dress each time they met, and each time she declined to go to dinner with him or allow him to give her a ride home.

Curious as to living conditions, and concerned that she might be homeless, he only pretended to leave and watched her to see where she would go. She sat on the bench for at least a half hour before she rose and walked toward Barne's grave and disappeared from his sight.

Even more curious now, he looked up the Janice Barnes obituary, got her parents address and went to see them. They were initially cautious, but he won them over with his sincerity and soon they were speaking of their daughter and her unfortunate attachment to a man who broke her heart.

They showed him her picture and he commented about how much she looked like her cousin. "What cousin? There was no cousin, no sister, no relative who looked like their daughter. Please bring her to visit." they implored.

"Aha," Jerald thought to himself. "That explains everything."

The next day Jerald saw Janice again. He did not stop at Marilyn's grave but instead went straight to Janice at the bench. Before she could say anything, he said, placing a finger to her lips suggesting silence, "I have a confession to make.". He hesitated, then said, " I am a ghost. I didn't want to live after Marilyn died so I jumped off the Chesapeake Bridge and drowned. I am buried in the family plot in Severna Park."

Janice stood there with this plethora of news, grinned broadly, and said, " That's. WONDERFUL!" and threw her arms around him.