Fiction

Romancing the stone

20150923_175342Her mood was always dictated by pharmaceuticals and those she chose to surround herself with. Her life could seemingly fly off the rails whether things appeared to be going smoothly or not on the surface. There was not a lot of in between times for her.

She thought of how fashionable it had become to live in minimalist fashion. She had been doing this all of her life yet now it was the rest of the world who was jumping on the “living with hardly anything” bandwagon. She never lived in Colorado, Oregon, Washington or some parts of New England where the movement to such phenomena had caught steam. And the irony was not lost upon her.

20150923_175303As she walked through the ancient graveyard yet again, she wondered why so many people who had been wealthy in life chose to die with a lot of fanfare. They all had lavish gravesites with headstones containing sentiments representing either the events at the time of their death or just a summary of years lived. For many others, and in the hope of being remembered for as long as possible, the writings, foolishly, she thought, sometimes included a brief accomplishment or association with some contemporary person of note.

By having headstones, people saw to it that their life doings would be broadcast for as long as their headstones and tomb facings remained upright and legible. While time could erode the etchings upon limestone and yes, slate, over time, granite took almost an act of the extremely unordinary for its markings to obliterate. Those who picked out granite headstones above all others had money, prestige and a desire to be remembered for a very long time.

20150923_130306She wanted none of this when she died. In fact, she just wanted to be burned to the point of cinders that blended in to atmospheric annihilation. She didn’t want to take up space in land, her bones risking exposure at the most inopportune time (really, when was there an opportune time for such an occurrence?). Weather and storms would not be a concern for an anonymous caretaker, who would tend to the tombstones of others and prevent their tipping over or breaking off once they reached leaning angles of no return.

No, no, she came into this world without friends and she would leave the friends she had made without concern over any of this. Her friends and family were not practical like she was.

They didn’t talk about death, nor did they even think about it like she did—that it was just an ending, but also the beginning of the rest of existence that comes at the end of the temporary state that is living.

20150922_131239She knew her utter lack of ego would serve her to realize this goal at death. She knew that she could pretend, make believe and yes, make do, until the time came for her to depart. She laughed at thoughts that would be the funeral service for her that would not happen, understanding that all of her wishes would be written out well in advance of the very minute she would die; she would leave nothing to chance.

The uncertainty of living was to be relieved by the assuredness of death. There was no need to compromise any longer once death arrived. She felt an unmistakable comfort in this knowledge. And she realized the best pleasure of all would be taking all of her innermost thoughts to the atmospheric grave. How trite, she thought, to do otherwise.

 

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1 reply »

  1. Interesting story. Poignant. Thoughtful.
    A suggestion–drop the first two paragraphs which don’t add to the story/drama. Jumping in at the cemetery focuses better on her angst-in-acceptance. Whether she is old and dependent on drugs or young and drug dependent, makes no difference. Her spiritual acceptance of eventual death is what matters here.
    Especially liked the imagery of “longevity” of memories in different stones/headstones.

    Like

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