A date (social encounter,) set in a cemetery. Begin with “On my 100th birthday….” And include the phrase “bullet hole.”
©2003 by Mae Ondracek
On my one hundredth birthday, (Wow! I made it!) I am keeping my promise and standing here beside Henry’s grave. It was a pact Henry and I made, a long time ago, when he got sick.
“Yes Henry, you were a mean old cuss that badgered me constantly about my health. I knew you were trying to put me in an early grave, but I wouldn’t let you get me down. I outlived you, Henry, and I am keeping my date with you, here in the cemetery.”
I laughed and said, “Remember Henry, how often you said to me, ‘I’ll be dancing on your grave when I’m one hundred. You aren’t going to last many more years’.”
I’d say, “Oh yea, I’ll outlive you Henry, you just wait and see.” But you’d laugh and reply, ‘We’ll see.’
“Just look at me, Henry. My hair has turned pure white. I am very lame and must use two canes to get around. I am stooped over,” and I point to my back, “this widow’s hump looks bad, but I still have a fairly good figure for one hundred years old, even though I’ve lost two inches and am now only five feet tall. Not many wrinkles on this old face, though.
“Do you remember Agnes, that old bag you liked so well? She turned ninety-five last week and she’s more wrinkled then a prune and must weigh 200 pounds, at least.
“My legs are getting tired, so excuse me, I have to sit down. See how easy this is?”
I slowly unfold one of my canes and up popped a seat. With a sigh of relief, I carefully sit down and continue my reminiscing.
“Henry, do you remember when you first got sick? Neither one of us could believe it was you that had cancer. But why did you have to die so quickly?”
I took out my handkerchief, dabbed at my eyes and blew my nose. “I promised you that I would visit your grave as often as possible and if I lived to be one hundred, and could still get around, I’d definitely make it here to talk with you. Well, here I am. You never believed how much I loved you. You cut me down every chance you could. Like that time at Helen’s party when I whispered, ‘I love you.’ You burst out laughing and said, ‘ya, sure you do. That’s just to make yourself look good in front of our friends.’ I think everyone was embarrassed except you.
“Henry, I really did love you, but every time you put me down, I loved you a little less. Although you didn’t realize how strong it made me, I pretended to love you the same as always. Many times I thought of joining you, but I’d think, ‘Nope, I have to keep up my end of our pact.’
“Do you remember that cute little number of a dress you bought me for our fourth wedding anniversary? I only wore it a few times and was going to wear it today to show you I could still fit in it and it would have been perfect to dance in, on your grave.”
I sighed and continued, “Oh, Henry, I couldn’t wear it because I had it hanging in the apartment window to air out and someone put a bullet hole right through the heart of the dress. All I could think of was that you had come back to earth and got back at me, again, by ruining my beautiful dress. Sill me for thinking that, right?
“I must be going soon and now that I’m rested, I’ll carry out the rest of our pact. I’ll dance on your grave.”
I carefully stood up, folded my cane/chair and walked upon Henry’s grave. Slowly I waltzed about, using my canes for support, until I felt something grab my left ankle. I looked down to see a hand sticking out of the dirt, trying to pull me down. Well, sir, I knew it was you, Henry, and I quickly hit at it with a cane. Again and again I whacked the darn thing. Suddenly the hand let go but I couldn’t stop my swing and the cane whacked me real hard on the ankle. “Shame on you, Henry!” I yelled. “Why did you have to go and spoil my fun? I’m not ready to join you, yet. I wasn’t going to tell you, but now I will. Old man Phillips asked me to marry him and I told him I would just as soon as I took care of this business. That’s right Henry, I’ll never visit your grave again because Don and I will be in Hawaii for a honeymoon.”
I planted my feet firmly at the foot of Henry’s grave, raised both canes and brought them down hard on the grave, saying, “Good-bye Henry, you mean old cuss.”
Leaving both canes planted firmly in Henry’s grave, I reached up and pulled the small pillow from the back of my dress and threw it down by the canes saying, “Rest your head on my widow’s hump, Henry,” and I laughed and laughed. Then I turned, stood tall, all five feet two inches of me, and marched to the car where Don Phillips was waiting for me.