Who cries for an empty casket

I pour a second cup of coffee and tighten the lid on the thermos. It isn't for me; more than one cup and I start to shake. The coffee is for you. I know how much you love your coffee. I mentally prepare myself, knowing I need to finish this today, knowing I cannot fail this time. I am tired and it is too painful to keep pretending.

I wash up the dishes and carefully put them away. Slip on my jacket and step outside. A coolness greets me as I stand on the front steps, breathing in the crisp country air. The sun begins to crest the hills, brightening the leaves on the trees. I watch as the morning light creeps along the field of flowers. They shimmer and glow with the birth of a new day as dawn wakes the sleeping land.

Retrieving the shovel that leans upon the railing, I approach this day with optimism. The spade is the only thing I need; the ladder has already been placed under the tree. Well, there is one more item to bring, I place that in my jacket pocket. I begin my walk towards the bunch of marigolds that spread out under the oak. I planted them for you, knowing they were your favorite. Not realizing how they would spread and grow. Then again, I shouldn't have been surprised. Everything you touched became brighter, full of life. Like it was for me.

I kneel before you once again. Steam rises, blending with the morning air as I pour the coffee onto the soil. Asking you to understand that what I am about to do is for you. Two years, three months and two days is a long time. They say time heals all wounds. Mine are still fresh, I am slowly bleeding out.

Placing the tip of the blade into the soil, I lean on the handle and press my foot down and begin. With each shovel full of dirt, I feel closer to you. This pushes me on to dig quicker.

The birds singing make me smile, they know, they approve, and they urge me on. I continue digging deeper until I can no longer bend over, I jump in the hole and keep working. The lower I get the more I feel your presence. My heart hurts, my lungs begin to burn. I slow down to catch my breath. Removing my jacket, I fold it, gently placing it on the edge of the grass. You would never approve of me just tossing it up and over. It always made you frown when I didn't hang up my clothes properly.

Your voice, I miss that the most. No, it is your laugh. I still hear it, especially at night. We were lucky you and I, not many are, but we were. We had our arguments and disagreements, but we never went to bed angry with each other, you refused to let that happen. Sometimes I think you just wore me down. Most times you were right.

Climbing out while I still can, I place the ladder upright in the hole. Then sit down leaning against the tree, staring into the blue sky, knowing you are there, waiting. Pulling out my cell phone I browse through my music list and begin to play a song, our song.

Louis Armstrong’s voice complimenting the sounds of nature, a soothing melody. I close my eyes and remember dancing with you. Under the stars on the grass, we would move together. Our bodies were one. I still feel your head upon my shoulder, your breath upon my neck.

‘I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom for me and you. And I think to myself…what a wonderful world.’

You whisper in my ear that you love me. Me leaning back and gazing into your eyes. You always made sure I looked you in the eyes when I said, ‘I love you.’

I want to thank you for that, until you I could never say those words. You taught me that it was okay to say them. I wasn’t less of a person or weak when I said it to you. I never felt more alive in my life. Because of you I finally understand what love is. I say it to our children, words my parents would never say to me.

‘I see Skies of blue, and clouds of white. The bright blessed the days, the dark sacred nights. And I think to myself …what a wonderful world.’

With you in it, the world was wonderful, it was beautiful. You gave me a reason to live. You let me dream and hope and imagine. But you are gone. I ask myself everyday is it still a wonderful world?

Louis croons out the last line ‘Oh yeah….’

The song finishes. I open my eyes; I need to continue. Today is the day. I tried so many times in the past but could never quite complete the task. Today is our anniversary, I cannot think of a more perfect moment. Smiling I stand up, then climb back into the hole and dig, toss the dirt out, dig, toss. Over and over. I hear you now, faintly calling me. Strength fills my soul; I have not felt this kind of peace in such a long time.

Through the earth I hear your voice asking. ‘What about our children?’

I lean on the shovel and pause for only a moment to think about your words. I continue knowing they will understand. They of all people know how I have diminished, how I no longer embrace life.

They were with me when I laid you to rest, right here where you requested. The law never understood and would not have allowed it. Jackson understood, he brought you here from the mortuary. To the farm, your home.

During the service at church. The people watched us; no tears came from our eyes. They whispered we were brave, stoic. They didn’t know, we already cried. Why would we now cry for an empty casket? They weren’t here, they never saw me weep as we lay you to rest here under this oak. Our Children leaned on me as we walked back to the house, not a home.

With out you, there is no home.

I toss the last shovel full of soil aside, it is deep enough. Throwing the shovel over the top, I climb the ladder only high enough to reach into my coat. I retrieve my revolver from the pocket and climb back down. I lay on the bottom in the dirt. I breathe in the earth and damp air.

Looking up I see the tree spread its branches out welcoming the day. The sky is clear and blue. It’s perfect. At night I can imagine the stars above shining down upon us. I say my final words to the world and place the gun barrel in my mouth. Taste of the metal and oil assaults my senses. I can almost feel the bullet leave the chamber exploding out, entering my brain then all would go dark. Unless I have the angle wrong, then it may only wound me, or worse, turn me into a living vegetable. That won’t do.

I move the gun and point it against my temple instead. Direct into the side of my head. Taking a deep breath, my finger pulls gently on the trigger, I slowly squeeze, feeling it tighten. I close my eyes and relax, ready for the moment. Taking one last breath of life.

I whisper. “I’m coming to you my love”

‘Thomas?” Hearing my name echo through my mind, startles me.

I release my grip on the gun and open my eyes.

“Liz?”

‘Thomas, what are you doing?’ Her voice is soft.

“If you are asking, I am guessing you know the answer. Don’t worry, we will be together soon.”

‘Why?’

“You know why. I miss you. I have missed you since the day you left.”

‘That is not a very good reason Thomas.” She always was correct.

‘I never left you, it was my time to go. Don’t you dare do this and say it is for me.’ She scolds.

“Of course, it‘s for you. I was lost before I met you, you taught me how to live.”

‘And this is how you thank me, by laying in a hole in the ground and putting a bullet through your brain? Oh, Thomas that isn’t living that is giving up.’

“It isn’t giving up; I am doing the only thing I have left in me to do.”

‘Thomas, I am going to say this, and you won’t like it, but you need to hear it.’

“What is it?”

‘This is the action of a coward; you may be a lot of things, but a coward isn’t one of them. Don’t abandon our children. Suicide doesn't just take your life. It kills all memory of who you were and who you could have been. You will only be remembered for this one act. Don’t give up on life because you are sad. Live, find your laughter again. Honor me that way.’

I begin to cry, she is right. But I no longer wish to be here, not without her. Not alone. I tell myself, don’t quit this time, I can do this. I bring the gun up quickly, no thought no hesitation. Don't think. I pull the trigger. The shot rings out.

Smoke fills the pit. Dirt splatters all over me, my ears ring. I toss the gun out and over the side.

‘Feel better?’ she asks. Then chuckles ‘ You shot that wall of dirt very well.’

“I don’t want to live without you anymore.” I then ask. “What am I supposed to do?”

'You do what you have always done, then you wake up and do it again.'

"Our children are grown. They have families of their own. I know they will understand. I feel alone, even around people. Without you I feel so empty."

‘Thomas, I love this land. That is why I wanted to be buried here. This land is me. Everywhere you look and walk I will be there. Walk barefoot on the grass, I will tickle your toes. When the flowers open and bloom it is me, saying I love you. You will never be alone.'

Why was she always so practical?

‘No more Thomas, this is the last hole you dig, do you understand me. Don’t be in such a hurry, I will wait for you, I will always wait for you.’

I continue to lay in the cool dirt, crying. My body shakes uncontrollably. I don’t know how long I lay in the bottom of the grave I dug. When my tears finally stop, dusk is creeping upon the land. I sit up and climb out of the hole, dust myself off. Removing the bullets, I toss the gun into the bottom of the pit. I pick up the shovel and fill the hole. The full moon is high in the night sky by the time I finish. I walk over to where she rests. Surprised to see the flowers still open. Picking one, I place it to my lips and whisper, “Goodnight my love.”

Clutching the marigold, I walk barefoot on the grass.

Back to our home.

I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you enjoyed it, please leave a heart, and help yourself to view my other writings.

Jason,