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Whatever it could have been, I’m not going to be like her. That I’m sure of.
As the day wears on, I get immersed in the tasks at hand. Sorting through my belongings, along with Alex’s, is a necessary yet oddly comforting activity. It’s a way of preparing for the journey ahead, but it also brings back memories of a time when our family was whole.
In the late afternoon, I hear the soft hum of the television from the living room. It’s Lisa, engrossed in one of her favorite shows. I approach her, hesitant yet determined. Alex walks behind me, dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Lisa glances at me with a distant look, her eyes barely leaving the screen.
“Mom,” I begin, “Alex and I need to go out for a while. We’ll be getting some supplies.”
Her response is cold, almost dismissive. “That’s good for you both,” she mutters without taking her eyes off the TV.
With a heavy sigh, I take Alex’s hand, leading him toward the hallway. He turns to my mother and smiles, his innocent voice breaking through the silence. “Bye, Nana.”
Lisa responds with a curt, “Bye, Alex,” still not shifting her gaze.
We step into the hallway and greet our neighbor, an elderly woman struggling to open her apartment door. “Hi, Ma’am,” I say with a warm smile.
“Hello, dear,” she replies, her voice slightly shaky. She’s a kind woman who often looks out for us in this bustling apartment complex. She looks at Alex and smiles at him. He shoots the same smile back at her.
As we make our way downstairs and finally exit the building, we’re met by the sights and sounds of the evening. It’s the quintessential urban experience: the sounds of traffic, the constant hustle and bustle of people, and the imposing presence of the eight-story building we call home.
Alex tugs at my hand gently, looking up at me with his curious eyes. “Where are we going, Aunty Amber?”
I bend down to his level, ruffling his hair affectionately. “We’re going to get some supplies for our upcoming trip, but first, we’re going somewhere special.”
His face lights up with excitement, always eager for an adventure. “Where is it, Aunty Amber?” he asks, getting only a wide smile from me.
We continue down the sidewalk, eventually reaching our destination—the cemetery. At the entrance, a woman with a weathered face stands there, offering bouquets of flowers. Her attire is simple, a faded dress that has seen better days. A colorful scarf is wrapped around her head, and her eyes hold a mixture of warmth and weariness.
We approach her, and she greets us with a gentle smile. “Hello, dear. Would you like some flowers for your visit?”
I glance at Alex, and he nods, his small hand clutching mine. “Yes, please,” I reply, purchasing two bouquets—one for each of us.
The cemetery itself is a peaceful place, with well-maintained pathways and carefully tended graves. A sense of serenity envelops the area, as if time stands still in this corner of the bustling city. A few other visitors are scattered throughout, paying their respects to their loved ones.
I kneel down to Alex’s eye level. “Do you know where we are, buddy?”
He nods solemnly, his gaze scanning the surroundings. “We’re at Mommy’s special place, right?”
“That’s right,” I say softly. “We’re here at Mommy’s resting place.”
We walk hand in hand, guided by memory and the presence of other visitors. Eventually, we reach a particular tombstone. It’s a simple but elegant stone, engraved with Jessica’s name and dates, a permanent marker of her brief yet impactful life.
Alex’s voice breaks the silence as he speaks to his mother. “Hi, Mommy,” he says, his voice a mixture of innocence and understanding.
I stand beside him, my bouquet of flowers in hand. “Hi, Jess,” I add quietly.
We spend a few moments there, in our own silent communication with Jessica. Alex tells her about his day, sharing the small triumphs and joys of his young life. I talk to her too, recounting the events that have unfolded since her passing. Looking at Alex, I tell Jess that we’d be leaving for Japan soon. She’d also always fantasized about leaving for Japan with me. It’s a bittersweet conversation, one filled with love, longing, and unspoken grief.
Finally, we carefully place the flowers on Jessica’s grave, a small offering of beauty and remembrance. Alex looks up at me, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I miss Mommy,” he whispers.
I kneel down and pull him into a warm embrace, my own eyes moist. “I miss her too, buddy. But she’s always with us in our hearts, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says. A pure smile cracks across his lips.
As we leave the cemetery, I think of the complexity of the scars I carry. Jessica’s untimely departure had left a void that could never be filled, and it had taken a huge toll on me.
Chapter Four
Derrick
