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Making Good On Words Spoken before/after In 1999, when my grandmother died, I noticed that a brass bowl stood empty in front of my uncle's vault. Light streamed through the stained glass windows as the final moment came before internment. My mother leaned into me and whispered, "Arg, get me a flower from my mother's casket." I did so. Gave it to her. I noticed the brass bowl, and said, "He should have some flowers." Mother hemmed and hawed, saying she would when she had time. "I'll do it then." I said. "Don't tell me when you do it," she said. * * * Today I bought some fake flowers. A small tasteful arrangement. Blue and white flowers, poseys, perhaps, petunias maybe. I don't know my flower types very well. I walked into the mausoleum. The doors closed quietly behind me. There were a few cars more than usual in the drive, but inside silence reigned. I walked to the aisle that had my grandparent's and uncle's vaults. I guess on the way, I must have noticed a ladder in another aisle, but really, I don't...know. Anyway, I went and got this ladder on wheels, and wheeled it over to their vaults. They're not that high up, but they are out of my reach. So I went and got it. I'm not sure what the ettiquette and protocol of a mausoleum, but after thinking about it, I figured that anyone who works at a mausoleum probably wouldn't get to twisted up about it. Unless, like, I moved it and they had left it in a certain spot, and then it would be gone. As if by ghost. Ha. And I wheeled it into position. Right before I stepped on it, I had an incredibly powerful sense that someone was watching me. Sometimes I get that fleeting sense, and I pay little mind. The catcalls and echoes of mad spirits, ghosts of the mind or whatever. Then there is the very real very definite sense of feeling someone watching you, and there is no mistaking it, and it is never wrong. You just know, and when you look around hard enough, you find that person. Before I stepped up the ladder, I felt that definite sense, and looked around thinking very definitely that there was someone watching. Nothing. I paused to listen, perhaps there would be footsteps of someone walking away. I was certain I would hear it. Just...about...now... Nothing. Odd. I went up the ladder, and gingerly put the flowers in the bowl. Found myself talking to my uncle. "I don't really know you." I whispered, "But my mom seems to like you. She really loved you. And I don't think my family should have an empty bowl like this. I hope you like the flowers." I heard the echoes of my whispers on the marble of the walls, the facings of the vaults. God, I must be insane. What if someone saw me? Silently I prayed for their enlightenment and happiness and got down. A family walked by near the entrance to the aisle, not looking. As I wheeled the ladder back, and took one last look at the flowers I placed. They looked good. Not overstated. Not underdone. Put the ladder back where I found it and left. Haven't told anyone about it. (Except you, of course.)
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