Fragile

Chapter 39

Psychologically, maternal love begins before even birth. As our neurons and little limbs and heartbeat forms, our cells are connected to our mother, probably as close to anyone as anyone could get in this world. From birth, though no longer one body, a mother holds her newborn baby close to stabilize a bond outside of the womb. I wondered if my mother did that when I was born; I imagined she did, but maybe if she hadn't, I could explain why I felt oddly distanced at the thought of her being gone. 

The funeral was very small, as we didn't really have any living relatives anymore. Noah and I flew out to Arizona with Kiera and Charles so that she could be buried with my father and brother. Part of me ached at the thought of seeing their gravestones, rather than my mother's. Her will was dated, and she didn't really have much to her name anyways. She left everything to my father, still. I wondered if she just never sought the chance to change it, or she never truly believed my father was dead. I wished I could've asked her. 

Kiera had her arm gently over my shoulders. I didn't know how long I had been staring at the gravestone, but I knew Kiera hadn't left my side all morning. "At least she's back with them, right?"

I nodded, though I wasn't really processing her words. I had read the tombstones a million times, but the words wouldn't sink into my brain. Two larger ones and one smaller: 

Janet Hemmings, loving mother and wife. 1974-2022

Matthew Hemmings, Best soccer coach and father, 1970-2012

Jakie Hemmings, Angel lost too soon, 2005-2012

I wondered who had created the tombstones. Truthfully, they kind of sucked. I wondered if the person even knew my family. Then again, maybe I never really knew my family either. I couldn't remember much about any of them, even their faces. 

"Best soccer coach? Was that the best they could come up with?" I tried to joke, but my voice came out completely flat. "Angel Lost too soon? Is he from the SPCA?" 

The jokes were flat, but Kiera laughed anyway. "I'm glad you said it and not me," she said. "I'm not great with memorials either, but even I could've done better than this." 

I tried to laugh with her, but not even a smile came. I imagined crying was apropriate at this time, but I couldn't seem to do that either. The three tombstones didn't feel like people; they felt like strangers, people whose faces I couldn't even imagine in my head properly. It wasn't like the granite had any face to remind me. 

"It's the first time I've seen my father's name," I mumbled. "That I remember anyway. I remembered Jakie's, vaguely, after Noah told me about them." 

She gently rubbed my shoulders to keep me warm. Even in Arizona, early February was brutally cold. It felt fitting for a day like this, one without any warmth or love. I wondered if things had been different, if I would've experienced the loving family dynamic even once. It was both confusing and lonely to miss something you never had, and could never get. 

"You were young, no one knows their dad's real name. I didn't know my dad's real name was John until I was like thirteen," she tried to console me. "Because to us, they're just our dads." 

My chest ached. He didn't get to be that either, really. "I only have one memory left," I said. "He used to make my lunch for school everyday. I didn't see him in the afternoons because of soccer practice, but I remember the town started to talk about a small homeless boy at the playground. I didn't notice it right away, but eventually my dad started to put two cookies and juice boxes in my lunch. It makes me wonder if he knew who Noah was, if he approved." 

Kiera sniffled, and I drew my gaze towards her. "Sorry, I'm a sap for star crossed lovers," she sniffled, pulling out a pack of tissues. She offered me one, but I declined. "I bet your dad was awesome," she said.