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GH - 193
🕑 Added 2024-01-02 05:40:14 +0000 UTC“There it is,” I said from behind Mum as soon as I recognized Pops’ headstone a few rows ahead, pretending I knew the way all along.
It wasn’t easy to willfully scrub what the headstone looked like from my mind because I was the one who had it made around five or six years ago—a three-foot-tall slab of exquisite marble, obvious from its sheen compared to its neighbors, with subtle engravings that popped under the right angle of the sun. Pops’ name was carved deep into the stone, ensuring it wouldn’t fade through the years. There was a religious quote beneath it that Mum chose. Though I didn’t like it, I let her have that one.
When Pops was buried, he only had a flat grave marker—a small concrete rectangle on the ground, flushed with the green grass. His name was painted on it that peeled off a year later. It was the cheapest option available back then. Mum couldn’t even afford to have it made from granite, at the least. A standing gravestone was out of the question.
After our family’s finances had made a complete turnaround, I decided to get Pops a better gravestone.
I had thought of building him an extravagant mausoleum, maybe even a pyramid—okay, that was excessive—but Mum opposed the idea because she didn’t want to exhume Pops to transfer him. She was right, of course. Pops might wake up, terribly annoyed, if we disturbed his grave for ‘pointless expenses.’
When we reached the spot of Pops’ final rest, Mum knelt beside the headstone and placed the baskets she brought at its feet. She then took out her handkerchief and began wiping the marble. This was her mini-tradition.
I placed the standing arrangements I carried by their wooden spines on either side of the headstone. Nelly and Sawyer followed suit, also unloading their flowery luggage.
“This is a really well-kept cemetery,” Nelly said, hands on her hips as she looked around. “One’d think it’d deteriorate as time went on. Green Grove, where Auntie Jemma is buried, has tall grass everywhere. Sacred Plains, too. I can’t remember who’s—”
“Uncle Percy and his wife,” I supplied. They were neighbors of Pops’ shop and eventually became our family friends.
They also moved out of Egret three years after we did. Uncle Percy suffered a stroke, was half paralyzed, and couldn’t continue their store. He passed away not long after, followed by his wife, who must’ve been afflicted with grief. I wasn’t superstitious, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that row in the business center they rented was cursed somehow.
“A pity what happened to them,” said Nelly. “Even more pitiful is the state of their cemetery. It’s like a jungle. Last time I was there, I was deathly afraid a snake would burst out of the dense greenery to bite me.”
“Many cemeteries only bother to clean up when Remembrance Day nears,” Sawyer said. “Skimping on maintenance expenses.” She lowered herself opposite Mum and dug around the headstone with her hands. “Only a few weeds here, but nothing wild.”
“Your father and I chose this place well,” said Mum. “This cemetery is owned by the Pelomar family. Famous for strict discipline with their finances, they’re still one of the wealthiest families in the country even after several generations.”
“Compare that to many of the old-rich clans,” Nelly said, “who have squandered their wealth through the years.”
“Yes, the Pelomars have industry running through their veins,” I added, having had a few dealings with members of their family, albeit those far from the main trunk of their family tree. “They’ll never ruin their name just to save expenses on grass cutting.”
“It’s fortunate you were able to buy a place in this cemetery, Mum,” said Nelly. “This is a prime property now. Egret’s urban sprawl has reached here.”
“We passed by many fancy houses,” Sawyer chimed in. “Fancy people walking their fancy dogs on fancy leashes.”
Nelly continued, “I’d hate to imagine the price of a single burial plot here now. Tens of thousands of warblers, I reckon.”
“Five… Maybe ten times what it was sixteen years ago?” Sawyer offered.
“Probably more than that,” I said. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the costs rose twenty-fold.”
“Your father and I were lucky that we completed the installments before he passed away,” said Mum. “A small silver lining.” She lovingly wiped Pop’s name with her handkerchief, folding it and slotting its edge into the deep etchings to dig the dirt out. “He wanted to be sure our resting place would be taken care of even if no one visited.”
“We’re visiting him, Mum.” I ignored that she mentioned ‘our resting place.’ I hated when she did this talk.
“It was a long time since we’ve last been here,” she replied. “We should visit more often.”
“I, uh… yes, we should.” I slowly replied, turning my head away.
“In any case, I’ll accompany him here someday.” Mum nodded at the space beside Pop’s grave. “You and your sisters have your own lives to—"
“Don’t say that, Mum,” Nelly interjected. “You have long years ahead of you.”
“Yeah, Mum,” said Sawyer. “Didn’t the doctor mention you’re way healthier than others your age?”
“I’m not shying from the inevitable future, my dears,” Mum said.
“I’m going to get the other flowers.” I abruptly said, walking away.
Emotional things weren’t for me. I had withdrawn into a shell long ago, I admit that. It was the key to pushing forward in this harsh world, hardening oneself to make everything bounce off. It wasn’t like I was alone in this—many people trudged ahead in a similar fashion. However, many would also disagree this was a healthy thing to do.
And perhaps they’d be right.
Shutting off emotions was a band-aid solution to its burden. ‘Solution’ might not even be the fitting word to describe it. I’m running away, more like. I was cognizant of that. But since it had worked well for me so far, and I had reached far with it working well, I wouldn’t bother changing it.
Just thinking about these heavy matters made me want to don my AU-VR Helm and dive in Mother Core Online. Thinking more about it, playing MCO was a form of escapism… of running away.
But from what?
Was I avoiding something by immersing MCO? Or looking for… something?
If I didn’t know what that something was, how could I find it?
“Herald, wait for me,” said Nelly. “I’ll help you.” She left Sawyer behind with Mum. Sawyer grimaced at us while sitting on the grass. After we were some distance from them, Nelly muttered, “When are we going to tell Mum about the house?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “But we’ll have to do it after this. The timing is right, reconnecting with the past since we’ve just visited Pops.”
“And how do we go about telling her?”
“We’ll find an excuse to pass by our old neighborhood. I know it’s out of our way, but we’ll think of something. I don’t think we should say that we want to see our old house. She’d hesitate, assuming there’ll be other people living there.”
“It’s easy,” said Nelly. “I’ll tell Mum there’s a new tourist attraction she should see, and we’re using a shortcut. She’s excited to explore the changes in the city. After that, then what? We’ll pass by our newly renovated house and point it out to her?”
I shrugged. “Maybe say something like, ‘Look, Mum. That used to be our house.’ Of course, she’ll be surprised at how similar it looked to her and Pops’ original plan. I doubt she had forgotten it.”
“Then you’ll spring the surprise that we bought it back?”
“We’ll stop to look at it. Might need to do some persuading. Thinking now, we should’ve placed a fake ‘For Sale’ sign in front of it so Mum would think it’s empty. It might even entice her to check it out.”
“That’s a good plan if you thought of it yesterday,” Nelly remarked. “Anyway, I’m sure we can convince her to take a closer look. The design alone would.”
“Okay, okay. Then when come right up to the door, I’ll give her the keys and it’ll be the big reveal.” I clapped my hands and waved them in a wide arc.
Nelly chuckled. “You know what that sounds like? Remember those shows Auntie Jemma loved where there’s a major house makeover, and the owner will come at the end of the episode, all shocked and so on?”
“I’m thinking more about the shows where they feature a good-hearted person who’s down on their luck getting rewarded with a car. They do that walk-up-to-the-car-and-reveal-the-keys thing, same as my plan.”
“It was fun watching those shows during dinner while eating leftover pizza from lunch,” Nelly wistfully muttered.
“That’s my general idea on how to tell Mum,” I said. “Unless you have something else.”
“Nothing from my end. You’d think we would’ve come up with a plan for something this important and momentous.”
We didn’t want to think of what’d happen afterward, I replied in my head. No need to voice it out because Nelly was certainly mulling over the same thing. Perhaps, running away from hard decisions was in our blood. Leaving Egret was also running away, in a sense.
Not just ‘in a sense’. It was running away.
Yes, staying was hard. But we could’ve stayed. And it wasn’t like our life in another city was easier.
On our return trip, Nelly popped the question I dreaded answering. “What if Mum doesn’t want to live in the house?”
“She’ll live there,” I said, evading the question. “It’s her dream house.”
“Sawyer’s not going to come with Mum,” continued Nelly. “Sawyer can’t leave her ranch because she has a business to run. If Mum’s going to be alone, she might have second thoughts about moving. And she doesn’t know anyone on that street. Our old family friends are gone. I checked.”
“You did?” I blinked as I processed it. Nelly had considered something I didn’t.
I was supposed to be the thorough one, which was why I headed the family business, not simply because I was the eldest. In our excitement to buy back our house and renovate it as a present for Mum—me, especially, because I was completing a Goal—we forgot about the small details. They might not be so small after all.
“I can stay with Mum for a couple of weeks,” Nelly said. “We’re just starting the two branches, and I want to watch over that. But after … How about we have a schedule of staying with Mum if that’s alright with you? For example, you’ll stay with her this weekend. I’ll take the next one, and so on.”
“We’ll think about that,” I said as we neared Mum and Sawyer.
A small suggestion popped into my head. What if I volunteered to stay in Egret?
I was going to leave the city after MotherCon and visit prospective sites for new projects and expansions. Nothing concrete—I took on those ‘jobs’ so it wouldn’t look like I was lazing off after passing the CEO position to Nelly. I wanted to keep busy, even if it was just ‘fake busy,’ the same as many of our employees when I did surprise rounds among our branches.
But there was no need for any of that, was there? No one was checking up on me. And I had MCO to occupy me. A fun occupation—nice pun.
“If I stayed…” I mumbled. “I could always visit Eclairs.”
“What was that, Herald?” Nelly asked.
“Nothing. I’m just amused Mum seems to be counting the flowers.” I confirmed that to be the case when we rejoined Mum and Sawyer. My youngest sister was sitting on the ground with her back leaning on Pops’ headstone, watching Mum go over a flower basket.
“That’s enough counting, Mum,” said Nelly, taking the basket away from her.
“But I was making good progress,” Mum replied. “I need to continue so I can tell Herald how many flowers there are.”
Nelly shot me a glare, blaming me for a clearly innocent joke. She said, “Mum, it’s time to give Pops our messages. Herald can go first.”
