Chapter 25
Shady Oaks Cemetery
Salina, Kansas
Overcast
The yellow roses Lucas purchased at the local florist were subpar for the job of apologizing to his mother. The overcast skies of Salina drizzled with a light rain. The heavy clouds matched his mood. Both of his parents were gone now.
The muddy ground pooled with random puddles of standing water. As a kid, Lucas remembered being excited to get drenched and dig for worms during Kansas storms. A simple joy of youth now the bane of that adult’s existence. He stepped in a deeper puddle and his socks got wet. Great.
His mother’s grave was overgrown with tall weeds. The groundskeeper obviously only did a cursory mowing job with no trimming around the headstones. Although this stone marked the location of his mother’s body, he comforted himself thinking that at least his parents were in heaven together, released from hunting demons. He had one thing working for him that held the rest of humanity at bay: he knew for an absolute certainty that heaven and angels existed and God wasn’t just some fairytale myth. God created the world and loved His creation. That information alone should have been enough, but it wasn’t—he wanted more—more answers, less death, the eradication of evil.
Even if he killed every demon walking around, tens of thousands more would spring up from the rotting corpse of the earth and proliferate like the infesting pests that they were. No peace for Lucas Rojas. Even with knowledge of humanity’s most coveted secret: God does exist.
But, even with the knowledge from the mouth of an angel that Jesus did die on the cross; even knowing his parents were at peace in heaven; even knowing his family held artifacts from the time of Christ: Lucas hated death.
Carmen put a hand on his shoulder when he knelt to place the roses under his mother’s name. It was raining and cold on the day of her funeral, too. Why was it that the worst events in your life could be replayed with perfect clarity and detail while the mundane aspects of existence quickly become a foggy yesterday?
The last time he visited this grave, he’d stood alone with a Catholic priest. His father wouldn’t come or pay to have a mass said in her name. His father had retreated into himself and his lifelong string of mistakes. He let it consume him, never even visiting his wife’s tombstone.
Sixteen year old Lucas signed his father’s name to each check required for his mother’s proper burial: four hundred ninety-five dollars for the cloth-covered fiberboard casket, three hundred and fifty for the graveside service. He’d selected one of his mother’s Sunday church dresses and given it to Ryan at the mortuary on Eighth Street. The fees included transport of the body to the family burial plot. The headstone was already in place, her name listed on the eight plot site followed by her birth year and a hyphen.
Only Lucas and the priest attended the short graveside service where the priest sprinkled holy water over the casket and said a prayer. Lucas told the priest his father was an atheist so it sounded legit. After the casket was lowered into the ground, he threw a yellow rose into the freshly dug grave. Even now, he remembered the smell of the newly cut grass and rich soil.
The dozen yellow roses he brought with him today were from the same florist he’d stopped at all those years ago. The year of her death was filled in now; he traced it with his fingers, then made the sign of the cross before placing the roses below the dates of his mother’s too short life: Elizabeth Rojas: Beloved wife and mother.
He picked up one of the roses and inhaled its aroma, sweet and dewy from the light rain. “Mom,” he began, fearing his voice would crack. “Dad’s with you now, huh? I, uh…I shouldn’t have left him here alone. He was sick for you, and I was sick of our life. I’d give anything to have you both back, but the life you lived, that we all lived…it’s so hard. It’s terrible to see what others can’t. I want to continue the fight, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough. I love you, Mom.” He looked up to the sky. “I love you, Dad. I don’t want to say good bye. I miss you both so much, and it hurts so bad. I want to be a little boy again, my only worry being to find enough worms to use as bait for Dad and I to fish with. Too early, I had more burdens than a child should have to bear.”
“Amen to that,” Carmen agreed, and Lucas glanced up to see tears streaming down her cheeks. She squeezed his shoulder.
“I’m catching the next plane back to Costa Rica. Come with me?” She wrapped her coat more tightly around herself.
“No. I need to see Cali.” Lucas felt the cold breeze drying the salty tears on his own face. Even with Carmen beside him, Lucas felt utterly alone and numb. Then Cali’s smile exploded in his memory and gave him the one thing he needed…hope.
He looked back to the gravestone. “Mom, when I was little, I remember you used to repeat the same prayer every night. I loved it. The prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. I think it went…
“‘Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Oh, Divine Master, may I not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; or to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.’”
Lucas rose and let his tears cloud his vision. Carmen held his hand and leaned her head on his arm as they walked away.