Cemetery Street

Nestled above and behind a small thicket of cherry and laurel trees Shannie's grave overlooked the Schuylkill River. Unlike the grand monuments that dominated the hillside, Shannie's was a simple grave, eventually to be marked by a granite headstone. "I always planned on using the plot for myself," Diane commented in a composed moment. "I always loved that part of the cemetery. I never thought I'd need it for my little girl."

I sat next to my father, who draped an arm around Diane who in turn Shanniesquely rested her head upon his shoulder. I turned away with the comparison. I thought about my mother, wondering if she was still incapable of the compassion that my father and Diane shared.

As the minister began prayer, I peered at my father and Diane. They were a good couple. They deserved each other; they deserved the best. With Shannie gone they didn't need me lumbering around like a real life vampire, sucking the energy from whatever good feelings life has in store for them. They deserved a fresh start, not a reminder what's missing.

As if hearing my thoughts, Russell, who sat adjacent to Diane, faced me before turning his attention back to the minister. Fucking Russell, I thought. The things that man has been through. He was a perfect example of the resiliency of the human spirit.

"The way I look at it…" Russell said putting his arm around me the day after Shannie's accident. We were walking down Main Street towards the Railroad tracks. "…is that you gots this choice. Ya see life goes and serves you up this plate. If ya don't wanna starve ya gotta eat what's on yo plate. Who wants to go hungry? You don't go and starve yourself just 'cause someone went and put some liver on yo plate instead of ice cream. That's what butterfly's little friend did. She didn't want no liver, she had herself there a sweet tooth. Liver wasn't gonna cut it for her, no sir. She'd rather starve and she did, she went hungry. Now Butterfly," Russell went on as we continued towards the railroad crossing, "well she ate what be on her plate, she always cleaned her plate. Just a shame someone gone and poisoned her food."

We stood in silence at the crossing were mere hours ago a wounded dragon languished, a wounded dragon that consumed my soul mate. In daylight this hallowed ground looked nothing like the nightmare in which I stumbled over Shannie's body. "All that is transitory is temporary," Shannie once told me.