St. Anne Cemetery, Blue Cove, DE
Parker skipped out of Medieval History. There are some things that take precedence over dead Princes.
She took a bouquet of lavender roses to the cemetery, and slowly made her way through the black iron gate to the rows of marble stones.
Campbell. Leick. Gruner.... Parker.
PARKER
Catherine
Loving Mother
Born Died
1962 1999
"Hi, Mom."
She put the roses in the holder in front of the headstone, arranging them so they didn't block her name. The space on the gravestone for her father's interment was still blank, of course, but it gave her a chill to see it all the same. The sun was shining brightly overhead, the trees were just starting to bud, and Parker felt so damn awkward. There ought to be a book about this. How to Visit Your Mother's Grave After Seven Year's Absence. Bad daughter. No, just confused. Hang onto that.
It wasn't like she was here. Anything important of Catherine Parker was-- elsewhere. Heaven, if that existed. She'd definitely have gotten in, with both her life, and the reasons why she died. And if she was in Heaven, she already knew everything Parker wanted to tell her. There really wasn't any point to this.
Parker knelt down next to the stone, and traced her mother's name with the tip of one finger. CATHERINE.
"It's pretty here."
No sense of anything listening, of a response from the ether. But she still felt compelled to keep talking. Maybe just because her mom deserved this acknowledgment, even if she didn't need it.
"I'm sorry it took so long for me to visit." Parker swallowed, words spilling out that had been in her head for weeks now. "I'm sorry I hated you. I should've been able to deal, even if it had been true, I should have been able to handle it."
She took her sunglasses off, folded them away, kept talking. "Daddy isn't dealing. I don't know what he knows, but he never got over losing you. Not even a little. I haven't either." She made her voice more cheerful. "But hey! Now I can do something about it. Someday. And we'll figure out a way to save the others, I swear. What you tried to do-- it's not going to be left unfinished."
Parker fiddled with one of the flowers. "We. Me and Jarod. You'd like him. You wouldn't have liked some of the others, but you'd have liked him. Mostly because he loves me. I think." She paused. "No, I know he does. I just don't know how long it'll last. Or how long we'll have. Enough time to fix this, Mom, that's all I can ask for, right?"
God, there was so much, so many times she'd wanted her mom, wanted to tell her things about her life. "I miss you so much. After you died, whenever you weren't there it hurt to think of you. I did everything different from you, Mom. Clothes, hair, walk, talk, attitude... I used to watch those old black and white movies you loved, and pick out tricks from the actresses, ways to act grown-up that were nothing like you." Her voice lowered. "I'm sorry for that, too."
"I promise, though-- I'm going to make you proud of me. I'm going to try to be different. As much as I can, with what I have to do, I mean. And I won't let them do to me what they did to you."
It was less a sense of response, than it was, probably, her own internal sense of closure that made her feel so peaceful. Parker kissed her fingertips, then laid them on the gravestone. "Bye, Mom. I'll see you again, okay?"
Walking out of the cemetery Parker had the weirdest feeling; as if for the first time in seven years, there was someone watching out for her, somewhere.
She pulled out her phone on her way past the gate, and dialed Jarod's number as she got into the car.
She took a bouquet of lavender roses to the cemetery, and slowly made her way through the black iron gate to the rows of marble stones.
Campbell. Leick. Gruner.... Parker.
PARKER
Catherine
Loving Mother
Born Died
1962 1999
"Hi, Mom."
She put the roses in the holder in front of the headstone, arranging them so they didn't block her name. The space on the gravestone for her father's interment was still blank, of course, but it gave her a chill to see it all the same. The sun was shining brightly overhead, the trees were just starting to bud, and Parker felt so damn awkward. There ought to be a book about this. How to Visit Your Mother's Grave After Seven Year's Absence. Bad daughter. No, just confused. Hang onto that.
It wasn't like she was here. Anything important of Catherine Parker was-- elsewhere. Heaven, if that existed. She'd definitely have gotten in, with both her life, and the reasons why she died. And if she was in Heaven, she already knew everything Parker wanted to tell her. There really wasn't any point to this.
Parker knelt down next to the stone, and traced her mother's name with the tip of one finger. CATHERINE.
"It's pretty here."
No sense of anything listening, of a response from the ether. But she still felt compelled to keep talking. Maybe just because her mom deserved this acknowledgment, even if she didn't need it.
"I'm sorry it took so long for me to visit." Parker swallowed, words spilling out that had been in her head for weeks now. "I'm sorry I hated you. I should've been able to deal, even if it had been true, I should have been able to handle it."
She took her sunglasses off, folded them away, kept talking. "Daddy isn't dealing. I don't know what he knows, but he never got over losing you. Not even a little. I haven't either." She made her voice more cheerful. "But hey! Now I can do something about it. Someday. And we'll figure out a way to save the others, I swear. What you tried to do-- it's not going to be left unfinished."
Parker fiddled with one of the flowers. "We. Me and Jarod. You'd like him. You wouldn't have liked some of the others, but you'd have liked him. Mostly because he loves me. I think." She paused. "No, I know he does. I just don't know how long it'll last. Or how long we'll have. Enough time to fix this, Mom, that's all I can ask for, right?"
God, there was so much, so many times she'd wanted her mom, wanted to tell her things about her life. "I miss you so much. After you died, whenever you weren't there it hurt to think of you. I did everything different from you, Mom. Clothes, hair, walk, talk, attitude... I used to watch those old black and white movies you loved, and pick out tricks from the actresses, ways to act grown-up that were nothing like you." Her voice lowered. "I'm sorry for that, too."
"I promise, though-- I'm going to make you proud of me. I'm going to try to be different. As much as I can, with what I have to do, I mean. And I won't let them do to me what they did to you."
It was less a sense of response, than it was, probably, her own internal sense of closure that made her feel so peaceful. Parker kissed her fingertips, then laid them on the gravestone. "Bye, Mom. I'll see you again, okay?"
Walking out of the cemetery Parker had the weirdest feeling; as if for the first time in seven years, there was someone watching out for her, somewhere.
She pulled out her phone on her way past the gate, and dialed Jarod's number as she got into the car.