She can reap the concern in my eyes, and she smiles as her weak, fragile hands, hold mine. She’s fine she says. At 78 years old, she’s just been through a lot in life she told me. I still looked at her questioningly, unaware of my open expression of curiosity.
“I’ve booked the lot for my grave today, the full amount paid and taken care of”, she said as a reply to my interrogative gaze.
“Oh”, I replied, “That must be… difficult”
“I still remember the time when I had newly been married.” She began telling me. “Then before we knew it, three children, and I was living with the best husband one could ask for. He was a good man, always put my desires at the top of his list. Then, one day we decided to buy a house for our family. My husband and I, both of us together, went to book a lot for a brand new home. We decided the colours, frames, all the little interior and exterior details. I was so happy. I had so much. And today, while signing the papers for the lot of my grave, all of that came back to me. Where life has brought me, I barely ever thought about. Realities we love to put on hold.”
“What about your husband, is he here with you I mean?”
“My husband died 8 years ago… of a heart attack. I realized I should probably prepare for that day when it came upon me. I began saving up to buy the lot for my grave, didn’t want to burden my children after I left. So I saved, just like my husband and I had saved up to buy our house at one point. But they’re both just so different. It’s all different.”
“Well, it isn’t the most exciting of purchases, I can understand” I tried to console her, shook her hand slightly in assurance.
“Except, this is probably the only purchase that I’ve made in my entire life, that’s going to stay with me forever…”