by Lisa Bjurstrom

Created on: August 10, 2010

The old man glared at me as I walked past him.  He was slowly walking back toward his Honda, guiding the woman at his side.  She didn’t look my way, absorbed in her own grief.  Although my eyes were focused on the ground in front of me, I still noticed this.  As did I notice the daggers burning in my back from the other visitors, who had reached their rides earlier. Those who thought I couldn’t hear the comments, whispered under their breath.  Or maybe they really did want me to hear? 

I was gliding past the tall stones as silently as I could.   The sun shone bright through the branches, but it was cold; cold as death.  I pulled my jacket tighter, hoping to bury myself away from their eyes, their accusations, and their pain. 

My destination laid ahead, the beautiful white casket glowing with the afternoon light. As I heard the last purr of a motor fading through the trees, I finally looked up and stared at the granite marker.  Jessica. 

A lump rose in my throat.  I didn’t want to remember this.  I wanted to remember the Jessica from high school; the vibrant personality, who pushed me to attend college, while she stayed in town and took a job at one of the local warehouses.

But that flat, dark stone only reminded me of that last night.  Perhaps, I should have stayed up on campus that weekend.  “I’m taking you to a party!” she said, bubbling with excitement.  Maybe, if I had said I was too busy….

Jessica was always full of life, but after a few hours, she was also full of alcohol.  She was in a heated argument with a man I had just met that night.  Recognizing trouble, I took her keys and pushed her into the passenger seat.  She yelled.  She hit.  She dropped her Miller-Lite on my lap and it fell to the floor.  She grabbed the steering wheel….

Jessica, I should have taken your beer away.  I should have buckled you in.

That night, you weren’t the girl we all knew.  So, that night, will stay between me and your stone.   

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