Flowers
I awoke, feeling as though I’d been reborn. My skin was clear, and my hair was blonde, the color of sand once the ocean brushed over it. My eyes hurt, and my vision was blurred. I looked around to find out where I was, and from what I could make out, I was laying in a cemetery. “Rolling Hills” the sign read, moss covering the corners like a poster border. I climb up to my feet and glace around at my surroundings. Behind me layed a familiar name on a tombstone. My name. Gracie Anne Wilson. Seeing my name gave me a shock of confusion and fear and I hoped I was dreaming. My bare feet squished against the maintained grass as I crept closer. It was real. I was dead. There were no flowers by my stone. No pinwheels and no sign anyone had visited since the passing. I think back to what I was like before the accident. I had just fired Trisha, my life-long best friend, from her publishing job in Downtown magazine. I hadn’t thought twice about it then. It was what was best for the company. I had spent little to no time with my husband and children because I would have rather been at work. Everything in my life had been business, strict and serious.
I went to the house I lived in before Spetember 7th, 2009, the day I died. I knocked on the hard oak door, and a few seconds later, there was an answer. It was him, my husband, Tony Wilson. He looked curious as if he didn’t recognize me. I tried to form a smile, and ask, “Hello, do you know who I am”? My voice caught him off guard, the same voice he fell in love with and the same voice that died three years ago. He smiled, a little uncertain, “I’m not sure I do, you are?” he asked. I try to stay calm and break the news lightly, “My name is Gracie Anne Wilson. I am your wife. I died three years ago”. His jaw trembled and opened a bit. He muttered out a few “But-” and “How-” before he accepted the facts. “I don’t know why I am here, but I am.” I said a little more panicked. The truth was, I was freaking out. Why did I come back after I died? It’s been three years, why am I just now coming back? He invites me in and the interrogation started.
“What day is it?” I asked. He said a little too slowly, “September 7th”. What was the likelihood I came back the day I died three years ago? “What do you remember from your life?” Tony asked still completly intruiged. “I remember not being very present at home, and firing Trisha, and I was about to be named “Magazine of the Year” by Choice” I said. He sighed, “You didn’t change”. Confused, I asked what he meant. “You were always business. What title can I claim now? What can I do to beat out this publisher? What color appears best on the model Sharantik? You never just kicked back and looked at the view” He said. I knew what me meant. I was always working on making our magazine the best, good for business, bad for family. “I’m sorry. If I could go back and change, I would” I said, and I really meant it. I wished I had been more present in John and Sammy’s lives. “You are here now, so make it count” He said and stood up. He hugged me, and my eyes welled up with tears. I missed him, I didn’t know it, but I missed my family. He wiped the tears from my face and kissed my forehead. He left to go make coffee for us, and I went upstairs to the closet. My clothes were still there, untouched and unwavered. Unphased that the owner had died and come back. I picked a white sweater and loose jeans, an outfit I’d never wear three years ago. I threw on some sneakers I was going to donate, and walked into the bathroom. My shower caddy was just as I left it, organized hanging by the mirror. I looked in the mirror for the first time, and really saw what I was. Three years ago, I would have seen a woman who could command a room in deep need of lipgloss and mascara, but now I see a broken woman in need of family. I brushed my hair and went without makeup. The first step in changing might be small, but steps are steps. I walked back down the stairs to find two coffees by Tony on the couch. He wore an exhausted smile, rightfully so. “Is that a new outfit? I’ve never seen you wear it” He said curiously. “No, I never wore it because I didn’t know how to live a casual life, and this is a casual outfit” I said and smiled a real smile. I sat by him and soaked in his presence. “I didn’t even conside remarrying after you died. '' He said and I smiled. I knew he wouldn’t. Even if I wasn’t home a lot and always working when I was, he loved me for me. “I dont deserve you” I said and hot tears poured out of my eyes. He pulled me in close, my chin on his shoulder and he began to cry. “I never thought I’d see you again”. We cried together, and for the first time since marriage, I felt all the love he had for me. We breathed and slowed our tears. I heard something from the basement and looked up from his shoulder. It was Sammy, she was talking to someone. John. They were coming up for breakfast, hair still a mess from sleep and still in their pajamas, they saw me. Sammy came first, embracing me without a thought. She laughed and smiled more than I could remember ever seeing her. Johnny came with tears running down his face, wrapped in my arms. We were a family.
Something was bothering me still. I was reunited with my family who loved me even after I was not there for them enough. Trisha. I fired my best friend from her dream job. She was perfect for it, I was in the wrong. I cooked waffles and sausage for Sammy and John, and a cinnamon bagel for Tony. I made myself a scrambled egg with toast, and finished the coffee from Tony. I kissed my husband and hugged my children. They were mine. I grabbed an old computer from my desk and typed “Trisha Montgomery” into the search bar. No matches. I remembered where her apartment was, I needed to make things right. I didn’t have money, being dead for three years, so I borrowed a couple dollars from Tony, and bought flowers and a coffee for her and headed toward her apartment. I still remembered her coffee order, Cinnamon swirl latte. She meant so much to me, I don’t think I could forget. Once I got to the brick row of apartments, I could hear her dog, Buster barking. I rang the door bell. A woman opened it. She was different, but vaguely familiar. Her hair was red, and skin was spray-tanned. “Trisha?” I ask. “That’s me.”she said questioningly. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but my name is Gracie Anne Wilson. I wrongly fired you from my former magazine company. You were my best friend and I lost you. I’m sorry for what I did before I died”. I said, tears slowly falling from my eyes. I extended the coffee and flowers to her. He jaw stayed dropped. “Gracie Anne Wilson. I loved my Job, but I can’t thank you enough for firing me. I moved on from being a published to being a full on author. I’ve wrote best-selling novles and it’s all thanks to you.” she said with a smile that felt sincere. I smiled. I was so happy for her. Growing up with her I knew she would do amazing things. Before I could think, she jumped forward and wrapped me in a hug. She squeezed me so tight, it was hard to breathe. I laughed through tears, the best reuniting I could have hoped for.
Something about me had changed, I felt whole. I had never felt this way before the accident. For the first time I realized how much of my life I had been missing out on.
I returned home in the afternoon, and the kids were playing with blocks on the carpet. Tony was in the garage restoring the car I died in. When the semi hit me head on, the blunt force killed me instantly, and it had been his mission to fix it before he joined me. I brought him some lemonade, the kind he always liked when we were dating, and he kissed my head. He told me again, “I am so glad you are here. I work on this all the time. Its the piece of you I still have”. And I smiled. I was so lucky. I sat on the steps of the garage watching, admiring. After a while, it turned into a two man job, and I too was covered with the dirt and grime of car parts, another thing I wouldn’t have done three years ago. In the evening, we washed up and made dinner together. Something I didn’t know I loved, and missed already. Seasoned pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy. We ate then retired to the couch, keeping out whole family within arms reach. I knew right then, this was the life for me. I changed into pajamas I used to hate that my mom gave me, and bid everyone good night. Yep, I was lucky. This is my life now, and I adore it. The sun had set, and the stars appeared through the sheer curtains over the windows. The moon lit up the room as it did before and as it always would. I smiled as I drifted off to sleep, thankful for the day I came back.
I awoke the next day, September 8th. Something had changed. It was like looking at the world through a window, I could see my family, but they couldn’t see me. I looked all over town trying to find someone who could see me when they looked up at the sky, but no one could, and no one would. I went back to the place this all started, the cemetery. Rolling Hills, the most beautiful cemetery in all of Grove City. I looked to my grave and began to weep. What I found there changed my life. Something that made it known that someone loved me, no matter what I had done. Flowers.