I stood by the graveside. We were
burying Uncle Eddy. Again.
A cool fall freeze kissed my face
and I shifted my feet, rubbing my arms trying to stay warm. The group that had
congregated around the burial site shifted restlessly and watched the casket
with suspicion, breath held and fingers crossed this would be the last time.
A faint knock sounded from the
casket and I stifled an annoyed groan. Others around me huffed with annoyance.
The funeral director unlatched the
casket and propped the top open and Uncle Eddy sprung up, gulping air as if he
just had the wind knocked out of him.
His face and blue eyes were pale,
like death, the same shade as his gray hair, but he wore a huge sheepish grin
on his face. He gazed at everybody who'd come to see him buried - hopefully for
the last time.
"This is the last time I
swear," Uncle Eddy said.
This was Uncle Eddy's eighth
funeral. When a wizard dies they can't really die until all their misdeeds are
fixed and any loose ends tied. Uncle Eddy was notorious for forgetting, so for
the past few weeks, he believed he had all his business in order, but as soon
as the casket was ready to be lowered in the ground, he would remember something
else and the funeral would be postponed.
Last time he'd forgotten to give his
cat, Muffins, her favorite toy, which he kept up on the TV stand for special
occasions. He claimed that nobody would know it's her favorite toy and it would
probably end up getting thrown out and he just couldn't stand to do that to his
poor little Muffins.
"I can see that you all seem a
bit... irked, but I've forgotten-" he glanced around, searching the crowd.
His gaze met mine and he perked up. "Allie! Just who I needed. Ok, listen
closely dear, this is very important. There’s a letter hidden in the third book
to the left located on the second to top bookshelf in my bedroom. Please bring
me that letter.” He paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “I also think I left
the oven on. Do you mind checking that?”
“Of course, Uncle Eddy,” I replied.
As the funeral director offered to take everybody back to the funeral home for
the time being, I made the twenty minute drive to Uncle Eddy’s house, rolling
my eyes when I found the door unlocked. Probably another thing he forgot to do.
Following his directions, I checked
the oven (which was still on) and
retrieved the letter. I glanced around at the cluttered room. Books were shoved
into every corner and when the shelves with them, there were more stacked on
the floor.
Turning toward the door, I stumbled
over a stack of books, sending them flying into a scattered mess with a loud
thud. I cringed and bent to pick them up. Uncle Eddy had so many bookshelves,
it took me twenty minutes just to find the correct one.
By the time I made it back to the
funeral home, half of the crowd had already cleared out. Uncle Eddy was
chatting with a middle aged woman with a black floppy hat.
“Ah, Allie!” he said, noticing me.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes, Uncle Eddy. I also turned your
oven off.”
I handed him the letter. He turned it
over in his hands, pondering, before calling out, “Margarete?”
A petite old woman, face wrinkled
with age and a large pair of reading glasses stepped forward. “Yes, Ed?”
“This is for you.” He handed her the
envelope and began rummaging around his pockets. “Hmm, there was one more thing…
Ah, yes here we go. Allie, dear, where did you go?”
“Right here, Uncle Eddy.” I stepped
forward and he held out his hand, fist side up.
“I believe this is yours.” He opened
a fist, revealing a small heart shaped locket.
My eyes light up. “I thought I had
lost that! It was from my great grandmother Gladys. Thanks, Uncle Eddy!”
“Yes, yes, of course. I found it a
few months ago and ah, well, forgot about it… Anyway, I believe that’s it… Time
for me to go.”
We took turns wishing him a final farewell
for the ninth time, and when he laid down for the last time, we stood in
silence for a long moment until the funeral director gently announced we would
make our way back to the cemetery.
An hour later, we gathered around
the graveside again, shivering in our coats, breath held as the casket was
slowly lowered in the ground and the funeral director began pouring dirt in the
hole.
Only when the casket was finally buried
did I take a deep, shaky breath. Uncle Eddy was gone, and I didn’t bother to
wipe the tears that escaped.
I clutched the locket Uncle Eddy had
found and turned to leave. On my way to the car, I ran into Margarete.
“Do you know what was in the
envelope? Old coupons and a note that read: Margarete,
I’m sorry I stole your coupons. I would have given the originals back, but they
were expired, so here are some new ones. I hope that’s alright. Love, Ed.” She
sniffled, adjusting her glasses. “I don’t know why he worries about such
things.”
I gave a small smile. “Uncle Eddy
always had a quirk for the trivial things.”
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