Jan Burke - Liar

That day, putting fresh flowers on my parents’ graves, I felt sorry that they had lost time with Briana and Travis, had not welcomed Arthur. Perhaps if we had offered our family’s strengths to him, or a little more forgiveness, we would not have been lost to one another in that tangled, strangling web of pride and shame and deceit.

I looked out across the cemetery and set aside my regrets. No time, no time for regrets. Who teaches that better than the dead? All that lingered was the first real sense of peace I had felt at my parents’ graveside. Something has been made right, I thought, some wound healed.

It was at that moment that my sister, Barbara, knelt down next to me.

I looked up at her, saw the expression on her face and said, “Don’t say it, Barbara.”

“Well, I did want that spot. Now where am I going to be buried?”

“Next to me,” I said.

“Next to you!” She stood up, clearly appalled. “Then don’t bother writing ‘Rest in Peace’ on my tombstone!”

“As if death could calm her down,” Frank said, watching her go.

He took my hand and we walked back to the car, speaking, as lovers will, of the benefits of cremation.