Ginkgo biloba is one of my favourite trees. They are ancient, beautiful, widely used in medicine and a rare delight in England - but it was
Jackie.Hikaru
who pointed out the most poignant thing about them - they are 被爆樹木 (Hibakujumoku - "A-bomb trees" or "survivor trees"). I didn't know that before writing this, but it's strange how often coincidences like this arise in life.
As always - thank you to the lovely Jackie.Hikaru for being such a good sport; if you haven't read her writing... well, you really are missing out.
I
"So I got a promotion today. Not much of one, and more responsibility, but it's a bit more money, and that helps. They want me to manage people. Can you imagine that? Me, having to manage a team of others? Hah. I know, right. They don't know what they're in for. It's going to be chaos."
I smiled and listened to the rustling of the leaves around me.
"I know. I know I can do it. After all, how hard can it be? Gantt charts, status reports, weekly check ins... I've got all that. It's easy. I'll manage. Besides... the people I'll be managing are... gentle. They look out for me. They always have. So... it will be easy. And anyway, it's either me or Danny Myers. Yeah. I know, right? So it's not like they have much of a choice if they don't want to be micromanaged!"
I laughed brightly.
"So... yeah. Anyway. That's my news. I know you probably don't have much to tell me, but that's okay. Here. I've brought you some fresh flowers. I'll put the old ones on the verge back by the gate so they'll get mulched and go back into it all again."
I took a breath, sighed it out, stared up at the faint wispy clouds high above us.
"So yeah. That's all I have, Lizzy. I can't believe it's been nearly two years now. Oh. Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean to cry. I know you hate that. Stupid. I thought I'd have run out of tears for you by now. Anyway. Oh God... um... yeah, so I'm okay. I'll see you next week, alright? Same time, if that works for you? Ha ha, not like it won't, not like you're going anywhere, are you? You're far too goody-two-shoes for that."
I kissed my fingers and touched them to her name.
"I miss you," I breathed, biting back the sob. "I love you. I will always love you. See you real soon, sweetie."
I turned away from the place they'd buried my dreams, and slowly made my way back to the path.
Behind me, the yellowing leaves of her two silent Ginkgo guardians stirred in the breeze; my fiancée's grave lay dark and solemn in the deep, dappled shade beneath them.
II
Her stone glittered in the dew; the faint silver specks within the granite lending a strange infinity to the surface, almost as if there were droplets within the droplets within the droplets descending down into a vast sunless sea...
Snowfall in the outer shadows, souls drifting down to the final shore...
I blinked.
"Stop doing that," I scolded her. "I don't have time for that part of me any more, you know that. There's too much shit going on for me to... to do that any more. Stop pushing. I stopped writing when you died. I'm not going to start again, and that's final."
I'd brought primroses and foxgloves and little bluebells this time, bound in their place with stalks of grass and some of the cuttings from her favourite willow tree down near the weir. I cleared the old, faded and wilted roses and lily-of-the-valley from the little steel holder that her da had pushed into the soil for me on that day, on that day...
My hands shook; I hunched forward as the black wave of grief reared up...
"Stop," I whispered. "No. Stop. Stop. Please."
The wind answered me; my eyes stung and I dragged the rough sleeve of her awful, garish magenta jumper over them.
I focussed on just breathing until I could speak again.
"So... your Da sends his love. He'll be around tomorrow, he says. He's fine," I added, once I could. "I still go visit him every couple of days, you know. Your room is still the same; he won't change it. Yeah, I know, he's stubborn. But can you blame him? You were all he had. I'm... I'm not a replacement for you, Lizzy, I never was. Oh, of course, I know he loves me, and I love him fit to burst... but you were the reason for that, sweetheart. We still cry every so often over a glass of wine. Well... more than every so often, I guess. He... he..."
I took a breath, held it until my ribs hurt.
"He told me that I need to let go of you. That I need to move on. That he was too old to but there was no reason for such a... a precious creature, is what he called me, the cheek... anyway... yeah. So your dad reckons I should try dating again. Hah. It's not going to happen. Nobody will ever replace you. I will never love anybody as much as I love you. There's no room in me for anyone else. And I know that sounds ridiculous, and you don't have to scowl at me like that over it. It's just the way it is. Like you being here and me not being down there beside you. So. Um... so yeah. Not much else to tell you today, Lizzy. It's been quiet. Mark and Louisa send their love; they moved to the States, did I tell you? I can never remember what I've told you; you should tell me if I've told you these things before..."
I stopped.
I knew I was veering far into deranged even by my usually extraordinarily-fucked-up standards.
I took a breath and sighed it out into the breeze, wondering who the faint eddies of my breath would touch next week or next month or next year...
"Sorry," I said. "I'm... getting distracted more, these days. And yes, before you nag me, I'm taking my pills. It's not that. It's... it's like Bilbo said, Lizzy. I feel like butter scraped over too much bread. Things just don't seem to matter as much any more."
I traced the delicate gold-inlaid cursive of her name.
Elizabeth Shannon O'Connor. My Lizzy, my Arwen Undómiel...
She was my mad little impulse kiss at a first year varsity party - a dare from a friend who'd noticed the way that the tall, dark, Celtic goddess was staring at me with such naked longing. Somehow that dare had become a date that had become a relationship that had blossomed into six years of Heaven on Earth...
And ended with an undiagnosed heart defect and no time to say any of the things I'd so desperately needed to say to her.
My dreams now lay forever beneath the emerald-green grass.
"Until the long years of my life are utterly spent," I said, finishing the morbid thought. "I know," I added. "Quoting Tolkien again. I know."
I squatted down and leaned forward to touch my forehead to her headstone.
"I miss you," I whispered. "Every day is harder. Your face is fading. There's no reason to go on. And yet... I do. Because I know you'll never forgive me if I don't at least try. So... I'll try. Just... promise you won't be angry with me if I fail."
I realised that I was crying again; I gasped a breath and fought for control. I hated crying in front of her. It always made her cry as well...
"I'll... see you again, soon. I'm having dinner with Da tomorrow night. I'm sure he'll try again. But I know it's because he loves me almost as much as he loves you. So... I'll be gentle when I tell him to get fucked, okay? Okay. That's it. Gotta get back to work. I miss you more than anything, Elizabeth. See you soon."
I turned, and clenched my teeth together, and stared to take the slow, impossible steps away from her.
It was sunny.
It had no right to be sunny.
Sunlight shouldn't be allowed into a world that didn't have her in it any more.
III
I sniffed, and then sniffed again.
It was my birthday this time, such as it was. The third-hardest day of all. Messages from friends, from her da, from my mum... all so gentle and kind and warm and loving. I was surrounded by people who loved me.
But the person I loved most was silent these days.
I still had her last voicemail on my phone; she'd been too weak to type so her Da had held the handset for her so that she could tell me she loved me one more time before they put her under for the desperate surgery from which she'd never woken.
I sobbed once, then bit down hard on my tongue to choke off any more. Pain helped. Pain focussed me on the present, kept me from going adrift in Time.
Two years older. Two years more broken. Two springs without my bright and shining Evening Star to guide me home...
I walked slowly between the two towering Cedars of Lebanon at the northern arm of the cemetery; the weathered stones beneath my shoes were speckled with leaves and twigs and cones after the prior night's storm.
I rounded a bend in the shadow-dappled walkway and saw a figure ahead of me; another girl, young, tall and thin like Lizzy had been - and dressed all in black apart from a faded grey button-up jumper.
She was holding a little white stuffed bear, stepping mechanically towards me, flanked by the ranks of ever-vigilant shrubs.
Her hollow eyes didn't track me as we closed.
Her cheeks were red and her deep walnut curls were straggling down from the ponytail that had failed her.
She passed me by and stumbled on; I caught her faint, hopeless sobs on the morning's mourning wind. Her scent was the gentlest waft of jasmine; a scent of life and growth that was utterly incongruous here.
She looked impossibly young - far too young to be here alone.
I stopped and turned and watched her, my heart full of sympathy for this fellow pilgrim on the road of bones.
And then a slow crawling horror mounted in me as I realised her only possible destination - the new graves.
I watched her stagger to a halt beside one that was decorated with little balloons and toys and candles - too small to hold an adult, but still just big enough to cradle the awful final footnote of someone's entire world.
I couldn't help myself; I closed the distance between us, hovering back just far enough that I'd not intrude on her...
She reached down towards the fresh turned earth and collapsed to her knees, then slumped forward into a messy, heedless bundle.
The noise she made chilled my blood, and I scurried to her side.
I didn't speak, there was no point, she was in no state to hear anything I said.
So I did what I wished someone could have done for me, and got my arms under her and lifted her out of the debris and detritus and muck and held her against me and let her cry as I stared, blinking, up at the uncaring blue sky above us.
Her child's grave? A sibling's? There were few other possible explanations.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, over and over again. I didn't care if she heard, I didn't care if she believed, I just needed her to know that there was someone there for her.
She uncurled by reluctant degrees. Her wracking, gagging gasps slowly softened. Her helpless rigidity passed; whatever darkness that had seized her released her and went looking for some new victim.
She cried on and on, but it was softer now, hopeless little keening shudders, like a child...
She
was
still a child. She couldn't be much more than nineteen, or maybe twenty at a touch, even with the premature ageing that grief gifted those of us who remained behind.
