It Doesn’t End With Death

        Autumn. I had always loved this time of year, when everything slowed and began to change. The streets were empty now because no one wanted to spend time out in the cold unless they really had to. Colorful leaves fell from the trees, and their soft rustle was the only sound around me. The quiet and peace were priceless.

        I stood in front of the cemetery, hypnotized by its gate, trying to convince myself to open it. I didn’t want to say goodbye to the quiet street yet, but the gate suddenly opened for me on its own. I took a deep breath and walked in. The quiet was gone.

        “Audrey, do you have it?” Edith, a teenage girl with glasses and tousled black hair, nearly bumped into me.

        “Hello to you, too,” I said, but she frowned slightly, demanding an answer.

        “Of course I do.” I handed her the book she wanted. She took it with a smile and ran off without even saying thank you. She was the oldest ghost here and the only one who had learned to touch things. She always wanted to become a famous writer, but she died young of tuberculosis. She decided not to leave this place unless she read every book on the planet, which probably never would happen.

        “You’re welcome,” I called to her, and she paused, turning to me. “Sorry, thank you. You know I love you for that.” She hopped onto her grave ledger and started reading, ignoring everything else.

        “And don’t scare people again. You know they can’t see you, but they can see the book,” I called to her, but she no longer paid attention to me.

        I looked across the cemetery. It was small, with only about twenty ghosts, but their murmur was so loud it sounded like there were a hundred of them. They were bound to the cemetery, so they couldn’t leave it even if they wanted to. The only way to leave this place was to resolve all the matters they couldn’t while they were alive. Then they could move to their next experience/go to the light/ to heaven—call it whatever you want.

I took my usual route, turning left first, then stopping for a moment.

        “Boo!” Mr. Harrison, a small, chubby man who died of a heart attack at 64, jumped out from behind his gravestone, as he always did. I pretended to be startled, and then we laughed about it, as usual. Mr. Harrison was the first ghost I saw here, and when he shouted "boo" at me a year ago, I almost had a heart attack, too. He kept doing that every week I showed up here.

        “Hello, Mr. Harrison. Your daughter uploaded some photos to her social media,” I said with a smile, taking my phone out of my pocket.

        “She got married, and if you look closely at her belly, you would probably be a grandfather soon.” I showed him a photo from his daughter’s wedding. He gazed at it for a while, tears glistening in his eyes.

        “Thank you.” His voice trembled with emotion, so he couldn't say more. I just nodded and silently showed him the other photos of his daughter.

His daughter was definitely the reason he decided to stay here. Throughout his life, his career mattered more, so he never had time for his daughter. She always hated him for that, and when she grew up, she left and never spoke to him again. Even though he never admitted it, he needed forgiveness and reconciliation with his daughter to move on.

After I showed Mr. Harrison all the photos, I kept walking along the path between the graves. I greeted a few more ghosts, wrote down their wishes, and noted what I could bring them next time. Then I stopped at Grandma’s grave and placed flowers in the vase. I put flowers here every time, even though she moved on long ago.

She took care of me after my parents died in a car accident when I was little. She was very kind and always helped everyone. She passed away from old age. I spent a lot of time here after her death. Maybe that was why I started seeing ghosts in this cemetery.

I continued walking, but I stopped again when I noticed a new grave covered with many flowers. A man stood in front of the grave, not a ghost this time, a little older than me. He looked devastated and spoke quietly.

In front of him, another man sat on the grave, probably my age, and just laughed. I pretended to rearrange flowers at the nearby graves, waiting for the living man to leave. Then I turned to the ghost sitting on the new grave.

“What was so funny?” I asked, and he looked surprised for a moment but then smiled at me.

“You must be the famous Audrey everyone talks about.” He stood, looking at me with a mix of admiration and mockery. I nodded and looked at his headstone.

“Nice to meet you, Ian, but you haven’t answered my question. Why would you laugh at someone who mourns their loved ones?”

“The guy was my brother, who loved me so much that he was sleeping with my girlfriend. I died the day I found out. You would laugh too at hearing his excuses.”

“How did you die? Did he…”

“No, he didn’t kill me.” He laughed at the idea, then continued. “I was just an idiot who thought it was a good idea to ride my motorbike drunk and upset. The tree I hit probably didn’t agree with me.”

“That’s life, I guess.” He added with a shrug. “But I’m single now.” He smirked, changing the subject before I could say anything.

“Sorry, but I’m not into ghosts,” I said, though his comment made me laugh.

“Your loss.” He shrugged, then asked, “Why are you spending so much time helping ghosts?”

“Because I can. I always wanted to become a doctor and help people that way, but I stopped my studies and came back here after Grandma’s death. I meant to return to my studies, but then I started seeing ghosts and couldn’t leave them without the help they needed. So I never left,” I said. He frowned at me, seeming upset by my answer.

“You should pursue your goals rather than spend time with a bunch of dead people.”

 I shook my head, then asked, “Can I do anything for you?”

“Yes, bring me anything with a flamingo, please.”

***

The next week I visited the cemetery again. I brought Edith another book and took the previous one back. I pretended to be startled by Mr. Harrison's “boo,” then stopped at Mrs. Spencer’s grave.

She was an older woman who died of a stroke at 72. While she was alive, she cared for her husband with Alzheimer's disease, but after her death, he was placed in a nursing home because their children didn’t want to take care of him. I recently learned that his condition had worsened and that he had ended up in the hospital. I told her the bad news, but she smiled instead of being sad.

“At least we’ll be together again soon, and maybe he’ll recognize me this time.”

After talking with her for a while, I continued walking among the graves. I greeted a few more ghosts and brought them the things and information they wanted.

I was happy to see that Layla, the little girl who died because of the abuse by her mother and stepfather, decided to move on and leave this place after I brought her a doll. She had never had a doll in her life, and she always dreamed of a doll with a blue dress and blond hair in two ponytails.

After I said goodbye to Layla, I stopped at Grandma’s grave to leave her new flowers, then went to say hi to Ian. He was sitting on his grave, back against his headstone. I took the small flamingo statue from my bag and set it beside him. He looked at it, then smiled broadly.

“That’s perfect.”

“You didn’t tell me why you need it. You don’t seem like a guy who likes flamingos that much.”

“I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

“Fine.” I shrugged, then added, “Can I do anything else for you?”

“Yes, at least consider returning to your studies.” His serious expression was unsettling enough that I nodded. Then he smiled again.

“And by the way, I hate flamingos.”

***

For the next two months, I visited the cemetery every week, bringing Edith the books, placing flowers at Grandma’s grave, and talking with other ghosts, sharing news and bringing them things they wanted.

I told Mr. Harrison he had a grandson and showed him pictures of the baby with his daughter. He stared at them for several minutes, crying.

Mr. Spencer joined Mrs. Spencer, and they decided to move on together. Before they left, Mrs. Spencer thanked me several times for everything I had done for her and said that her husband had indeed recognized her.

I also stopped at Mrs. Miller’s grave. She was an older woman who died of cancer at 81. When she died, she had an old tomcat named Oscar, but her son didn’t want to take care of him, so he put him in the shelter. Mrs. Miller was so sad about it that I decided to adopt him. I showed her some photos of him and told her that his health had sadly worsened, but she just smiled at me.

“Considering his age, it's probably about time.”

During my visits, I spent a lot of time talking with Ian. He told me that his brother visits him often. He had stopped seeing Ian’s ex-girlfriend and seemed to regret what happened. Ian was still angry with him, but he did his best to forgive him.

He also tried to convince me to get back to my studies again. He made me talk about my future and goals a lot. I had to admit he was very convincing because I started to think about actually going back.

I asked about the flamingo again, but he still refused to tell me.

***

As autumn weather slowly turned to winter, the first snow began to fall.

Mr. Harisson’s “boo” seemed sad lately. He told me he would really love to meet his grandson and see his daughter again in person. That's why I decided to write an anonymous letter to his daughter explaining everything. At first, I thought I would sound creepy, but after finishing the letter, I was satisfied and convinced she would at least consider stopping by.

Oscar, Mrs. Miller’s cat, died, and I decided to place his ashes in the large flower pot on her grave so they could be together again. She moved on that day, finally finding her peace.

Ian finally decided to forgive his brother and asked me to bring him a white T-shirt. He told me that when they were little, they used to watch a TV series in which one of the characters brought a white flag to everyone who was upset with him to make them talk to him again. Once, when Ian was very upset with his brother, his brother didn’t have a white flag, so he took off his white T-shirt and gave it to Ian as an offering of peace. He wanted to do the same for his brother now. I brought him the white T-shirt the same day.

When I told him I had reached out to my university about returning and that they agreed I could sign up for next semester, starting at the beginning of February, he was really happy. I also told him I still wasn’t convinced I wanted to go back and leave all the ghosts here without help.

“You should live your life, not the lives of people who aren’t alive anymore,” he said, his serious expression returning, not giving me a chance to make more excuses.

And of course, he still didn’t tell me about the flamingo.

***

My next visit was somehow different from my previous ones. As usual, I brought Edith a new book; I pretended to be startled by Harrison’s “boo”; I placed flowers at Grandma’s grave; I greeted others, shared news, showed them photos, and brought them other things they wanted. But when I asked what they wanted next time, everyone told me the same: “Nothing.”

        “See? We don’t need you here anymore,” Ian said with a smirk when I asked him about it.

        “Fine, you won. I’m going back to my studies.”

***

        My last visit before I went back to university was at the end of January. Mr. Harrison's daughter stopped by. She showed him his grandson and finally forgave him for how he had treated her. Mr. Harrison decided to move on after he told me about it.

        I brought Edith a new book, but when she opened it, she looked confused.

        “There’s nothing in it; the pages are blank.”

        “I know.” I smiled and handed her a pen. “Now it's your turn to write something.”

I stopped at Ian’s grave, too. He told me that his brother had visited him and that he was really moved and grateful for the T-shirt. He laughed a lot when his brother put on the T-shirt, which was probably two sizes too small, and said it was now his favorite T-shirt.

“By the way, my ex-girlfriend stopped by, too,” he said. “So now you can take this hideous thing away from my grave.” He pointed at the flamingo, and I looked at him, surprised and a little confused.

“Once we were talking about death, and she insisted that we should have a sign in case one of us dies before the other, to tell the other whether the place we go next is good or bad. She told me that if the place was good, we should show the other a dog because she always loved them. I told her that if the place was bad, we should use a flamingo. Because, if you ask me, these big pink birds are very creepy,” he explained, and I looked at him in disbelief.

“That was really cruel of you!”

“I know, and you helped me with it.” He smirked, then added, “That was why I didn’t tell you about it, because you would take the flamingo away before she could see it.”

“Of course, I would take it away. That’s not funny at all.”

“She actually laughed when she saw it. She knew me well enough not to take it seriously.” He shrugged, but when he saw I wasn’t convinced, he added, “She’ll be okay.” 

“Fine,” I said at last, picking up the flamingo. “But I’m taking it with me.”

“It’s all yours.”

I stopped before the gate and turned toward the ghosts around me.

“I promise I will visit you when the semester ends.”

“Go now,” Ian urged as Edith opened the gate for me and pushed me toward the exit.

“Goodbye, everyone,” I said as I stepped out onto the quiet street.