Leaving the Graveyard
I knelt in the graveyard just east of the temple built by my ancestors. Unlike the temple, the graveyard always welcomed me with impartiality. Death is truly no respecter of persons. The graveyard cradled patriarchs and wives, along with generations of their posterity. The air was thick with fog and dripping with memories. I took comfort in the concealment the haze provided. It enveloped me like a plush blanket. Heavy grey and white whisps swirled ever so gently around the tombstones of my family.
I looked down to my left and noticed a decaying corpse lying motionless next to me. Our bodies were connected by an IV. The crimson-filled tube was feeding death with life. I couldn’t remember consenting to this blood transfusion, but my heart pumped blood into the corpse with surprising purpose. I felt weak, but also intent.
“There you are,” a voice said from across the graveyard.
Slowly a feminine silhouette emerged from the fog. She was angelic, dressed in white, and walked with a step so light it looked as if she were floating. Her presence provoked an undeniable physical response. My body yearned to be next to hers, but I remained unmoved next to the corpse I was tethered to.
She continued, “Kneeling naked next to a corpse again? Why am I not surprised?”
I wasn’t sure which was more offensive, my flesh or predictability. I stammered, “I…I’m not sure how this happened.”
She gently reminded me, “You are the product of your actions regardless of whether or not you remember them.” She paused before continuing, “Don’t you miss me?”
“Of course, I miss you. Even when we’re apart you flood my thoughts. The absence of my body is not the absence of my affections,” I assured her.
She smiled as if she didn’t realize just how intoxicating her presence is in my life. She responded, “Good. If that’s the case, come with me. You’ve given enough to the corpses. It reeks of death here.”
She wasn’t wrong. The corpse next to me smelled of putrefaction, but I didn’t mind the scent of death. It smelled like remembrance and devotion.
“I can’t leave. You know this,” I reminded her.
Her brow furrowed as she petitioned, “Why? Haven’t you given enough. This corpse is killing you. Look at yourself. He is draining you of your vitality. You gave this corpse the clothes off your back and the blood in your veins. What has he given you in return?”
“Purpose,” I replied without hesitation.
She continued, “He will drain you of all life before he gives you an ounce of affection.”
Maybe she was right. My love might not be a finite resource, but my blood is. My once vibrant flesh was withering into a lifeless shade of grey. In time I would join the fog of nothingness.
Her voice was little more than a whisper as she pleaded, “I can’t stay here any longer. I…I cannot watch the woman I love die in the embrace of a corpse. Please. Come with me.”
I questioned, “Are you giving me an ultimatum? It’s either you or him?”
She answered kindly but firmly, “Of course not. An ultimatum would only result in you imagining his face every time we made love. I want you willingly, not coercively. This is not a manipulation tactic. This is my boundary.”
Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes and fell like rose peddles sprinkled on a coffin. Each one held a memory of my time with the corpse. I look up at my love, and managed to choke out, “What are you saying? Are you leaving me?”
“No. I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving this place and asking you to come with me. Have you even considered that I’m better for you than he is? I’ll feed you, care for you, comfort you, clothe you, and hold you. I’ll love you in ways he never did, because…I…I love you,” she said.
I fixed my gaze on the corpse’s sunken eyes staring blankly at the sky. I felt ridiculous. I thought that blood and devotion would be enough, but it wasn’t. Was I a fool to keep loving what had died long ago? When people walked past the graves did they see an absurd, naked woman pumping her blood into a vacuous pit? I conceded, “You’re right, but I also cannot deny my body longs to revive his. I loved him, and he once loved me too. It was real. I know it was real.”
She responded patiently, “Yes, it was real. You loved him, but you don’t have to let his corpse kill you. You can say ‘I love you’ and ‘goodbye’ in the same breath.”
The IV in my arm had been there so long my skin cells grew around the plastic tube making it part of my body. It felt as if there was no distinction between where he ended and I began. I couldn’t even see where the needle was originally inserted into my arm. Removing it would be a painful and bloody affair, but I needed to act quickly before I could change my mind. With a swift yank on the tube connecting me to the corpse, our bond was severed. Salty, red fluid sprayed onto our bodies. My heart kept pumping blood out of my arm as if it were unaware I broke my connection to the corpse and siphoning my vitality was no longer necessary. I commanded my arm to stop bleeding, but my heart refused. Old habits die hard.
For the first time in my life, I understood the desire to cremate a loved one. Sometimes the purifying power of fire is the only way to cauterize disobedient veins and longings. I leaned over the corpse’s body and gently pressed my cheek to his brow. I softly breathed the words, “I love you and goodbye.”
My love walked toward me and offered her hand as I slowly stood up from hallowed ground. The touch of her hand was like manna. I had almost forgotten the warmth of her body after years of clutching cold corpses. Suddenly I was keenly aware of my nakedness. I futilely attempted to cover my body with my bloody arms as I apologized, “I’m sorry. You must find me repulsive and foolish.”
She wrapped her arms around me without apprehension. The white fabric draped across her body absorbed my blood and stained her untouched perfection. My flesh was crude next to her elegance, but she didn’t seem remotely bothered. Cloaked in her embrace, she whispered in my ear, “Your generosity and vulnerability could never repulse me. I said, ‘I love you’…and that means all of you.”
She held my hand in hers as we walked side by side out of the graveyard settled just east of the temple built by our ancestors. I dared not look behind for a final glance. The graveyard was my past and would most likely be in my future, but I would not let it consume what was left of my life.
