Rag Doll Ch. 04

Ashley stood back, tears sparkling in her eyes, with our little daughter held against her to keep her warm in the frigid wind, letting me have my moment alone with my mother so I could say goodbye properly. The new headstone simply said 'Barbara Davies, beloved mother, taken too soon. I love you, Mum'. We'd had the original headstone, an ornate stone slab covered in his phony, lying, un-felt messages of love, a disgusting monument to my father's hypocrisy, taken down and crushed for road-stone, and had this one put in its place. My father was currently serving a 40-year term in a federal penitentiary 3,000 miles away with no hope of parole, so I doubted he'd be objecting.

Ashley had finally convinced me to reach out to my two half-brothers, to let them know that I was back, and ask them to meet me one last time; they'd never responded, and I was in no mood to pursue them. There was no evidence they'd ever come here to see their mother, either, even though the cemetery was only half a mile from the house; the grave had been untended, neglected, and overgrown. Even now they'd elected to stay away, but I was relieved and untroubled by their absence. Whatever tenuous link we'd had was gone now, and I was free of any further encumbrance from this part of my family; with Barbara's death, all connection to these people had gone, and that was how it should be.

The baby finally squirmed out of Ashley's grip and toddled toward me, so I picked her up and showed her to her grandmother.

"Mum; this is your granddaughter, her name's Barbara! Baby, say hello to my mummy!"

My little girl dropped the flower she was carrying onto the grave, enunciating lovely little pear-shaped sounds as she grinned toothlessly at me. Ashley knelt and arranged the posy she was carrying in the little flower-holder, and with that there was no more to say or do, so we left, all three of us, to go back to our life and our loved ones; I don't think I'll ever go back; I don't need to; no-one is truly gone until you stop saying their name, and with my daughter named after her grandmother, I will never be done saying her name.

We drove away, and pointed north, heading for the M6 motorway to take us back to Birmingham and our hotel for our flight from Birmingham International in the morning. I'd just taken the southbound exit for the four-hour drive from Carlisle to the airport hotel when Ashley flicked on the radio and my one-time favourite FM station, Lakeland Radio came on.

I listened to the end of an old Neil Diamond track and the DJ announced the next lunchtime request, another oldie, a special request for Nick, from Barbara. My eyes widened as the Beach Boys sang 'Little Saint Nick'. Ashley went to change stations, but I stopped her; it could have been a coincidence, but I felt somehow that it wasn't, that it was a message for me, my mother finally telling me it was over, and saying goodbye, and so I listened with tears on my cheeks as I said goodbye to her for the very last time.