In The Dirt

Believing in People is like believing in God. Seeing death take our loved ones, they still live on. In our memories,

                                 In The Dirt

 

     I could see the church was decorated in white rose lining; the long narrow idle was covered in white rose petals. The people filled the church with small smiles anticipating eyes, all staring at you and the future to come. I felt my white clammy hands wrap around the cloth of my pants, my eyes darted towards the golden door, a painting of a baby angel was holding a silver bow. The church reached out for miles, but if felt so closed in. Everyone’s body heat soaked into my clothing, my eyes shifting from corner to corner.

            The piano played with a light melody. The doors slowly opened, everyone turned to see the woman dressed in white. A long thin veil covered her Latino features, her dress held tightly to her bony body. Her hands tightened around her yellow tulip bouquet. The train was being held by her two brides’ maids. They were both dressed in matching violate dresses that reached the bottom of their knees, their shoes were thin silver flats.

            She drew closer in, everyone gasped at the beauty. Time grew slower as every step she took my heart took a beat. My hair was matted to my face and my eyes were a little too wide for comfort. My best-man nudged me in the gut, giving me a small smile. My father’s words wrung in my ears like a pounding drum,

            “Don’t mess this up Johnny, that girl right there’s got heart. You need some heart in your life,”

            The way he said it seemed as if it was a light hearted joke. But her smile really did feel as if something inside me grew. It might seem foolish to think she changed me, or that I’ve found ‘the one’, but I felt that I found a friend. I could see a faint smile spread on my fiancé’s face, I smiled back. She soon was beside me, taking ahold of my sweaty palm. I felt my body relax as I looked back at the Priest. He smiled at us, a glint in his dark green eyes. His face was stretching and his wrinkles went on for miles. But he looked younger at that moment. Warmth spread through the church, it was a moment in time that you look back on and smile at.

            Flipping pages in the scrap book I could see the pictures of all of us cutting the three layered white cake. I could see her great grandmother sitting on a piece of the cake, giving us a huge embarrassed smile. My father putting up his wine glass, his face flushed from the speech. Everything felt like small seems wrapping together into a nice memorable blanket; handmade, hard to achieve, and worthwhile, the memories of a soon to be family. A narcissistic man falling for a preschool teacher, it was all against the odds.

             The years that passed, and the memory was still playing as if I was there. The memories of seeing my wife walk down the idle. Or her falling on my mother while dancing to ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. All of these memories kept replaying in my mind, my face wrinkled in delight as I smiled down at those wonderful memories.

            I looked around myself once more, to see her much older but still beautiful face lay in the coffin. She lay there still, a white satin dress she wore as her beautiful eyes were closed. As if in slumber. She died in her sleep,

            “I will always have the memories that my beautiful wife brought me,” I announced to the sad crowd at the funeral home, our children, and their children sat crying. Aunts and uncles stood, telling stories about how amazing she was, and even our parents hummed gently to the tune of my wife’s favorite song. “She will always live in our memories.”

 

         Dedicated to my grandmother and grandfather, they loved each other very much.

Author's Note

I love this story very much, it needs some editing. But it will always stay close in my heart.