Photographic Memory

Welcome to the Advent Calendar Story Train, where you can read through 24 stories under this year's theme, Lost.

The smell of lilies, roses and chrysanthemums filled the air. The funeral home was almost a second home to him. As he walked across the thick red carpeting he could hear the familiar echoing creak of the wooden floor hidden beneath. The almost too cold air filled the chapel, welcoming those coming in from the heat and preserving the flowers just a little longer.

His grandmother had brought him with her many times for her to sign the visitor’s book and to bring a potted plant. They always got a “mum” from the supermarket where he would one day work and unload potted plants from the flower mart truck himself.

They rarely attended the services or went to the cemetery but always signed the book. It was important, she told him, that the family knew that other people cared about the deceased.

His grandmother had been gone almost 20 years to the day when his mother died, just two days ago. He was at the home again, this time greeting people as they came in and thanking them for coming.

He had just visited his mother at the nursing home the previous week and things were neatly arranged in her private room as they always were. 

She had one photo on the dresser of a handsome young man that was her one true love. The boy in the late 1930s photo was two years older than her and was the captain of the high school football team. He took her to the senior prom and she was in heaven. Then he went off to college and met a woman he married, and it broke his mother’s heart. That was the story.

She married the head cheerleader of the rival high school a year after graduating. It was a marriage that ended sadly and she married two more times. They both ended in a similar fashion but she did have one son, David. He was the one to stay by her side the rest of her life. 

Just a year before she developed dementia and the doctors had told him it was only a matter of time. She would sometimes talk about Bill, the boy in the picture, but sometimes she would ask David who the boy was in the picture. Sometimes she did not know who David was.

She had in earlier years told David, but no one else, the story about the young man in the antique photo frame on her dresser. He was the captain of the football team. He took her to the Senior Prom when she was a sophomore. She was in the girls drill team and carried the school flag when they marched during half-time at the football games.

David dutifully and kindly re-told her the story each time she asked and she always self-consciously smiled. He was glad, even proud that he could help his mother remember something so important to her. The last time he saw her, he told the story one last time. 

He was thinking about this when an older man he didn’t recognize came into the chapel looking very weary and walking almost hesitantly toward him. 

The man was wearing a dark gray suit and highly polished black shoes. His tie was thin and very neatly tied firmly at his neck. His white starched shirt was clearly very uncomfortable in the summer heat. 

He paused at the back of the chapel and gripped the back of a pew to steady himself. He took out a clean white handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow.

David approached him carefully and thanked him for coming. 

The man tried to smile and swallowed hard to say his name, “William”.

David saw that the man’s gaze went to the front of the chapel, his face darkening. 

David introduced himself and asked if he could show him to a seat. 

He slowly nodded and David led him to a seat that seemed to relieve the weariness of the man. 

Soon the service began and David went to the section reserved for the family. 

David could see the man clearly from where he sat and saw that the man’s gaze remained steady, never leaving the open casket.

When the minister delivered the eulogy, he spoke of his mother’s graduation from high school and her trip to Mexico City to serve as the Texas flag bearer for the high school’s drill team as they marched in a parade that honoured the good relations with Texas.

All during the service, David thought about the man so focused on his mother’s casket.

Why is he here? Wait a minute...it must be him, Bill, the boy in the photo! It had to be him. William?. Bill! Of course. Why else would this man I’ve never seen before be here? He must’ve seen the obituary. After all these years, he comes to pay his respects. But all these years...why does he show up now? I kept this story for her all these years and now he shows up! What is he thinking? Does he just not realize how long Mother grieved for him! What is he doing here now?

David began to sweat and his tie felt tight at his throat. He felt nauseated by the smell of the lilies. The minister’s voice echoed in the chapel. David looked at his watch.

Then he heard the organ playing a familiar hymn that his mother loved about Jesus coming to walk with her in a garden. The service was over.

David and most of the mourners joined the procession to the cemetery. This was also a familiar place and his mother was to be laid to rest next to her mother. 

There was a brief graveside prayer and then it was time. His grandmother had taught him that someone should always remain after the ceremony to witness the interment of the casket, he never knew why but it was one of her many direct teachings that he never forgot. 

When it appeared that everyone else was gone, and it was clear to the cemetery workers that he was not going to leave, the workers began their final duty. 

Then David saw William standing not far away from the site.

What is he doing here? What right does he have to be here? This is my job! Who does he think he is anyway?

David had never seen this man before and there had been many men who had visited his mother over the years. 

They stood silently for a few minutes watching the workers do their job.

Maybe he does feel remorse? Maybe he did care about my mother?

As they continued to stand there, several yards apart, David decided he just had to say something and walked over carefully to avoid crossing any of the graves.

“So, you knew my mother in high school?”

“That’s right.”

“And you were on the football team?”

“I was considered part of the team.”

“Mother was on the drill team and knew all the boys on the football team.”

“I was the assistant manager.”

“That’s how mother knew you?”

“Not exactly. She was to carry the flag for the parade in Mexico and the holster that she needed to wear around her waist to hold the flag pole didn’t fit right. My job was to make one that would work for her. I spent about a week making that harness.”

“So you got to know my mother during that week? And you became friends after that?”

“Not really. We attended some of the same classes, Home Economics and typing. But your mother was going steady with the captain of the football team and he took her to his senior prom. Then he graduated. I don’t think she ever saw him after that.”

“You never talked to her?”

“She seemed so sad about Bill being gone that it just didn’t seem right. I was a year behind her. I heard that she married a boy from another high school right after graduation. I think he was a cheerleader.”

William’s voice trailed off and he seemed to be having trouble with his breathing.

“I married a girl after the war. She passed away a month ago.”

There was a long pause as David and William watched the cemetery workers complete their job. The workers placed the flowers from the funeral home on the grave, packed up their tools and left. One of them paused and seemed to move his hand across his chest. David wondered if he was in some sort of pain.

“I read the obituaries every day now and saw your mother’s come up. I had almost forgotten those days.”

William offered his hand to David who was not sure what to say. He felt slightly dizzy and the moisture in the air made his head feel thick. He shook William’s hand and thanked him for coming.

William turned to walk away and David, after a moment, said quietly, “Sorry to hear about your wife’s passing.” But William was too far away to hear.

David walked carefully on the uneven ground to his mother' s grave. The air was thick with the moisture of freshly turned earth. 

He stood for a moment, fumbling to loosen his tie as a hard lump rose in his throat. He noticed the lilies beginning to wilt, their leaves beading with tiny droplets of moisture. He looked at his watch. He began to cry.

Thank you for reading today’s story. The next story will be available to read sometime on the 18th December, titled “Lost For Words". This link will be active tomorrow when the post goes live.

If you missed yesterday’s you can go and read it here.