Terminus

On either side of the double-sized rose-colored stone were two vases coming up from the even larger base carrying the weight for eternity. The stone itself was cut not in a simple rectangle, but with a smooth face and a rough jagged edge, lending to the sensations of finality and a sobering jolt of that realization. His parents are both gone now. Leaving him orphaned and alone. His brothers were certainly proving themselves useless— as far as any family connection goes. He believed there was no longer hope for a relationship, given their behaviors.

It felt like a life-sentence, and he wondered if his father felt the same way when he lost his siblings, and they lost their mother and father.

His mother was a young woman when she married his father. She was strong, successful, and determined, yet petite and more mild-mannered in nature than her husband. She was a beautiful woman. Even as she aged her and her child-bearing curves remained. It only made her the most stunning. In the end, she was taken by cancer, having beaten it on more than one occasion in her middle aged years— not as young as his wife when she first had it, but the age his wife was now.

His father was a fierce man, full of anger— yes, but also full of heart and passion. When men of old released their rallying cries to their comrades on the battlefield it was their deepest hope that a man like his father would answer with a roar. Calculating, cunning, puissant— in life his father carried great authority behind his name. A man other men revered, and where women desired his attention.

The man stood before the graves of his parents for the fifteenth year in a row. His wife of twenty years at his side. Standing guard in her quiet way of monitoring and protecting those she cared for— even when seemingly unnecessary a part of her watched. Clever eyes sharp as a ravens, he was aware she stood close, and what she was doing.

She always allowed him to visit quietly when necessary, and spoke when she had something to add to the conversation, and to share with the graves of her in-laws. Never offering anecdotes of generic condolence, she was well versed in how very meaningless thoughts and prayers were to most in their circle, and did not offer any.

Some find this cold, he found it perfect. He always cared for her, even in her deepest bouts of illness he remained her quiet champion. His father treated her the same. He never had any sisters, and both of his parents seemed bothered by this, but his father went a bit further than bothersome and more towards a bit of an ache. They both would have loved a fourth child to be a daughter.

But it was not to be, and so they welcomed about half of their previous daughter-in-laws into the fold. Some were successful for a time, until inevitably things fell apart for his brothers, but not him. He was still married after fifteen years, a record amongst his siblings, and one he was immensely proud of. Despite all the financial burdens befallen them due to her health or poor money management, after going as far as talks of divorce— they joined couple’s therapy, and came out the other side stronger for it.

He was hesitant at first, so was she, but they pleasantly surprised one another by continuously choosing each other. Something that still seemed to surprise them both a bit, but they were working on that now. They were becoming. Becoming who they were always meant to be together. Becoming who they were again when they were young and first starting. When things were new and exciting, they rediscovered their love, and how they each grew separately, now they were rejoining their marriage to fight for it, and not continue to disappoint one another, but thrive.

His parents remained married until the very end. First, they lost his mother. She was a proud woman of high integrity with a sound moral compass. She did not attend their wedding due to family dynamics and hurt feelings. They all were invited, but none attended.

Instead they had a small ceremony at his wife’s grandmother’s home in Chicago. A small ceremony of ten. It could have been twelve or even fourteen, but neither his parents nor his brothers attended. It was done quickly because her grandmother was dying of cancer.

So much cancer, so much illness, and death. It seemed to almost stalk the couple. The horrors persisted right on through to their current fifteenth year, but so did they.

Their first wedding— at her grandmothers— was wonderful. His wife’s favorite of the two, but she prefers a smaller number of people. Those she would be willing to see daily, as she put it. Their second was at her parent’s home, with approximately sixty guests in attendance, and again both of his parents and brothers were invited, neither came, but he wasn’t totally alone. He had her family now his, but also their friends and one of his brother’s middle brother’s ex-wives, his sister-in-law, and his niece and nephew. They were his family.

It filled the day with love and some relief. At the time his new wife was outraged. Hurt of course, but her pain in her view was often irrelevant— “I’ll feel it later,” she often said. She had a deep seeded etching upon her soul that required justice prevail, yet it so often doesn’t. This is why she became justice when it was deemed necessary.

Helpful at times, yes, but also could be defined as stressful for a man like him. He never desired rocking the boat. Avoided at all costs really. While his wife was more, I’ll burn it all to the ground for you, for my family, for that random kid she saw one day that needed support.

Parts of her could be classified as going a bit too far, at times, but she spent her youth not rocking the boat and all it did was harm her and others so he understood. Unfairly he often was the voice of reason trying in an often too angry way for her to hear, but he tried to soothe her chaos as best he could.

Yelling was not something that worked on her. She had an Italian family. They were quite talented in the art of loud speech, monologues, debate, soap box ramblings, conspiracy theories, and the many varied etceteras. His family— also could be quite loud— but mostly it was his father’s shouting that pulled the roof off the place and raucous laughter.

Yet as he grew older, and after his late wife had passed he became far more docile in nature. Leaning into the things that brought him happiness, what was left of his family. His grandchildren brought him immeasurable pride. The younger, his granddaughter, was one of his favorite people to ever be born. The moment he held her it was solidified that she could do no wrong, and no wrong shall befall her. Which given that this is Earth is unrealistic, however, he vowed it to himself to do anything within his power to protect and cherish her. He succeeded even in his last moments doing this.

His grandson was another point of pride for him. Before his passing when the dementia was progressing and his Diabetes and Heart Conditions were progressing he always knew the young man. He remembered even up until that final week that his grandson was getting his CDL licensing and was so proud of his adult choices.

The man’s wife had told him some of these stories while keeping others to herself as they would not serve anyone well. She saw the hard days, she watched her father-in-law slowly deteriorate, and then after a final stroke she sat by his bed humming to him, speaking in soft tones, and ensuring him she would keep her promise.

The man broke down in front of his parents. Thinking about all he had lost, and all that he still had. He had good health, his family, his job, and his home. These were the four things he valued above all else. Glancing up into his wife’s face as she stood leaning into his collapsed half-kneeling form he asked, “I’m glad to visit them, but why do we even bury our loved ones? It seems so weird today.”

She smiled cupping his cheek and said, “The Earth remembers what we forget.”