Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Gravesite (Blogophlia 40.5)
It was a beautiful spot, way up the hillside with a view of the valley and river. It was now in the hazy shade of winter. My skin stung with blowing snow. There was not going to be any digging until the storm subsided. Nobody outside the family knew she was dead. To everyone else, she had just taken off. Back home to Omaha or wherever. She didn’t have any other family we knew of, so there was no way to for anyone to disprove the claim.
But he knew. It was his form of divorce. Always in control, he had been the one who buried her up here. What was he thinking, giving me this trinket? It was Mom’s. The information he would never tell the police, he left to me as he gasped his last in the infirmary. I looked down at his shell and knew the worst was over. I signed the cremation papers and said the ashes could be flushed in the sewer. The German Storm Trooper who had brought me into the world had passed. The fear and beatings were no more. Just another piece of trash to throw away.
The fact I was there was against the rules. But that didn’t matter. I needed to know where she was. It wasn’t said in words, but in the picture. I had been up here many times with him. Now I could tie up the last the last gaping hole in my personal tapestry.
He didn’t know I had seen him bring the axe down on her head. Or that I had seen him load the body into the truck and drive away. But I knew never to say anything. The thought of cold steel against my own throat assured that. I knew he had taken the truck up to the ridge somewhere. After he had been got sent to prison, I had come up to see if I could find her. As it turned out, I hadn’t been far, maybe 200 feet downhill.
I made my way back to the snowmobile. The risk of being stranded was too much. I could hear the voice of Ugly Kid Joe as I wound my way down. As much as I resisted, I knew I was going to be just like him.