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The sky was covered in variant shades of gray and white on a peaceful, yet dark day. The pressed-flat grasslands whispered the strange spirituals of the breeze. Standing tall and eternally green, in challenge to the gray world, was a small copse of pines - the symbol of resurrection, but also of death.
Rebecca Mathem's fragile frame held a black cloak around itself. A laced veil covered her face. The granddaughter of Israel Mathem had dressed in the vestments of mourning. The shovel warped in the biting chill of the March eventide, giving the projection of a Picasso-rendered spade. Israel lay peacefully in the perfectly rectangular hole with his hands folded on his breast, smiling as one who is prepared to die.

Rebecca was always faithful to family. She was the youngest daughter of Israel's last child. When all the others had cursed their ancestors and renounced their heritage, Rebecca remained. She still lived in the family house, which had stood for centuries exactly the way it had been crafted in the era of the kings. The presence of the ancient home could be felt like the weight of the world.
Faithfulness, tradition. Only Israel Mathem remained alive, out of all Rebecca's ancestry. Now, he lay in an empty hole, waiting for his only true child to fill it. An old man, his face wrinkled with time, his thin hair invisible but for its disarray. "Child, remove your veil. I wish to take your face with me to the gathering of my family."
Rebecca slowly brought her hand to her face and pulled the veil away. Her face showed none of the tempest shredding her heart. With her ebon tresses dancing slowly in the slight swirls of wind, she gripped the shovel with both hands and began casting the cold earth into the grave.
It was not fair. She had been dutiful to her family since she was only a little girl. Even as a teenage girl, she did not ignore the wishes of her parents and grandparents. She was willing to do anything they asked of her, but not this. She could not do this.
She threw in another shovelful of earth. Perhaps it was not fair, but it was not her place to defy. Israel's final wish was to be buried by his children. He would not pass away in a sterilized place, surrounded by cosmetically cloned women in white gloves and green gowns. The earth had created him, and the earth would take him back. That was his wish, and Rebecca would carry it out.
Why had she remained? Perhaps her brothers and sisters had acted rightly. They had gone away and married, gotten jobs and started

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