An unexpected lesson

Who: Elle and Janey
Where: The cathedral
When: Afternoon

Armed with several small bouquets of flowers, Elle wandered into the graveyard. The stillness of the place gave it an inherent eeriness but also an air of peace. A few birds chirruped, and Elle liked to think of them as singing songs for those who may still be able to hear them. It made it easier to believe the idea of being at rest rather than something much more morbid.

Each of the bouquets consisted of white hyacinth accented with a pale blue ribbon carefully tied into a bow. Not only were hyacinths in bloom, they represented the notion of praying for others. Elle wasn't much for traditional prayers herself and so the flowers made for a fitting gesture. Immodest as it might have been, she was quite proud of them. She had grown the flowers herself and though that meant there were now a couple of naked pots without plants, they were going to a good place. She didn't mind that so much.

Some of the graves already had tributes left by family or friends. Vases of flowers, wreaths, other more personal tokens. Yet there were always some that remained bare. It always saddened Elle. People may have been forgotten or simply had no one to remember them. It wasn't right to just evaporate like that. Having a headstone that served as an eternal memory that no one could recall. So when she had flowers that were ready to be cut, she had made a habit of visiting the cathedral to mark the sites of those no one had.

Her first stop was Miss Marcy Pierce, died aged forty-seven. She bent down and gently placed the flowers on the grave. She always felt she should say something but it was difficult to think of the right words to say to someone she had never known. In the end she settled for, "I hope you like these. They've come out very nicely." After a silent moment, she weaved her way onto the next.

Mr Robert McAllister, died aged sixty-eight. Beloved husband and brother. She couldn't help wondering why the beloved wife and siblings hadn't left anything. Perhaps Mrs McAllister was now too old to tend to it. Perhaps it was too painful for any of them to visit. She considered the possibilities as she laid the bouquet down.

It had been a long day for Janey. Yesterday she’d spent the day riding on the high of the morning rendezvous with Danny, but she’d woken up this morning once again exhausted, with the threat of a migraine throbbing in her temples. Every other Friday she stayed late in the afternoons to assist with grammar tutoring for the younger kids, but luckily today was not one of those days. All she wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed, but she thought she ought to take advantage of the day’s warmer weather, so she’d stop by the memorial for the babies on the way home, and say a few prayers.

She unlatched the creaky gate of the old cemetery, the metal cold and rough beneath her hands. A few rows down, she could see a small figure crouched by one of the graves, though she couldn’t tell who it was. She began making her way through the rows, meandering back towards the corner where their monument stood.

The footsteps caught Elle’s attention and she automatically looked towards the source of the sound. As she got to her feet she peered more closely at the person. The woman seemed vaguely familiar. At the distance she was, she couldn’t quite be sure. Making her way to her next port of call meant she could venture closer and so one curious eye was kept on whoever it was. She stopped at Mrs Lilian Adams’ plain site to deliver her flowers and some kind thoughts. It also served as a nice vantage point.

Mrs McKinnon. Elle was sure it was Mrs McKinnon. A smile briefly crossed her face, initially pleased at the sight of the lady then less cheered when she thought about where they were. It wasn’t exactly a place of happy visits. She watched Janey a moment before deciding to go over. A friendly, or sympathetic, face might have been a welcome thing. She silently promised to return to her rounds later as not to leave anyone out.

“Good afternoon, Mrs McKinnon,” she greeted warmly. Not wanting to seem like she might be gawking, she kept her attention on Janey and avoided looking at the monument. “Are you enjoying the day?” It seemed a safer question than asking how she was.

When Janey realized who was greeting her, she gave a small smile. Elle had been a student her first year of teaching. A bright young girl with a big heart, and Janey had cherished watching her grow into the lovely woman she was. Their casual encounters at the soup kitchen or around town were always a pleasure, even--or maybe the better word is especially--on a bad day.

“Hello, Elle.” As she greeted the girl, she caught sight of the bouquets of flowers in her hand. Janey didn’t think to bring flowers often, which was a pity because they looked so lovely. She didn’t want anyone to think she didn’t care about the children she’d lost, but because she rarely put anything on the grave she sometimes worried. She wondered who Elle was paying her respects to; as far as Janey knew her father was still alive and her birth mother was simply a mystery. Maybe a grandparent, or a friend. “It’s been an exhausting day, to be honest. But how are you?”

Elle returned Janey’s smile with a big one of her own. One that may have come across as a tad too cheery given the circumstances. “Exhausting because of school?” she asked lightly but carefully, concerned that the source of the woman’s tiredness might be related to the reason she was in the graveyard. Most people came to visit someone they had been close to rather than complete strangers. “And I’m fine, thank you. Just giving these out.” She held up the flowers to indicate what she meant, regarding them for a moment. The living deserved something lovely too. “I think these ones are for you,” she said thoughtfully, selecting a bouquet and offering it to Janey.

“It was a long day at school, but I was exhausted from the moment I woke up,” Janey sighed. “Anyways, I appreciate the offer but I wouldn’t want to take the flowers you’d intended for someone else.” She noticed a few graves nearby with flowers on them already. The white looked especially bright against the mossy grays and greens that pervaded the graveyard, but the blue ribbons fluttering in the wind softened the contrast.

“You should make sure that you don’t work too hard,” Elle told her lightly, tinkering with a bow on one of the bunches as she did so. She glanced briefly up at Janey, an unspoken invitation to talk if she needed to. Shaking her head, Elle kept the flowers extended out towards the other woman. “It’s alright, really. I just bring them to the people that don’t seem to have any visitors. I don’t think they’d mind if you had some of them. I can always bring some more.” She finished with a small smile.

“That’s so thoughtful of you. I never think to bring any myself, and it will be nice to have some to leave for the children.” Even though there wasn’t actually anything buried in the cemetery, Janey always felt the closest to the babies she’d lost when she came to their monument. It was only a few years old; she and Danny had had it commissioned shortly after the last miscarriage, when they’d realized that to keep trying was simply putting Janey’s life at risk. Janey wondered if Danny ever came by, if he ever thought of them. Of course, he wouldn’t have had the same connection with them that she did. He hadn’t felt their tiny hearts beating inside him.

At first Elle just nodded. Losing a child... That was terrible. No, not child. Children. Plural. It wasn’t fair that anyone had to experience that. Especially not someone as nice as Janey. She looked past Janey to the monument erected in their honor, giving herself a moment. While she wanted to be sympathetic, Elle didn’t want to be too downcast. Her attention coming back to Janey, she gave her a flash of a smile. “You see, white hyacinths mean that someone’s praying for you,” she explained. “They also stand for loveliness.” It seemed to be quite apt. “I have lots of flowers, if you ever want something to bring,” she added with a quietly shy note.

“Maybe I’ll keep these for myself, then,” Janey mused, toying with the ribbon. She took a few steps closer to Elle, in the direction of the monument. “Did we read any of Anne Bradstreet’s poetry the year you were in my class?” The years all blurred together after a while. Even though Elle had been Janey’s first year teaching, she didn’t remember much specifically of the curriculum. And she found herself now wanting to share the monument with the younger woman, to share a bit of herself in exchange for the girl’s kindness.

“Well, you are very lovely,” Elle said in agreement, though she doubted that was the reason Janey wanted to keep them for herself. She made a mental note to make sure to bring some more flowers another time. Recognition flashing on her face, Elle nodded quickly. “Oh! Yes. We did...” Eyes going skyward, she searched her mind to recall some of what she’d learned. She wished she could reel off entire works, wanting to show that she had retained what she’d been taught as a testament to Janey’s teaching abilities, but she could only think of one short passage.

“We both are ignorant, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when the knot's untied that made us one,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.”

Elle looked slightly embarrassed after the recitation and felt she should explain herself with a soft, “I’ve always been able to remember that part. I enjoyed your class. I really did.”

“Before the Birth of One of her Children,” Janey said softly. “I like that one.” Elle had a gentle, almost musical voice, and the antique verse sounded lovely. “Let me show you something.” She walked up to the monument, assuming Elle would follow. When they reached it, she had to shade her eyes against the sun to see it properly, but there it was. She ran a hand gently over the engravings. The monument was simple, no names or dates of course. No one who didn’t know the story behind it probably wouldn’t quite know who it was for, but of course Janey did. There was a delicate border of a morning glory vine, the blooms perpetually half-open, as they would be in the early hours of the morning. Etched in the center was a verse from one Janey’s favorite Bradstreet poems:

“Farewell dear child, thou ne'er shall come to me,
But yet a while, and I shall go to thee;
Mean time my throbbing heart's cheered up with this:
Thou with thy Saviour art in endless bliss.”

“It’s always reminded me of...” Elle started but trailed off halfway through. Leaving the thought there, she simply smiled instead. Some of it was not wanting to make herself look stupid by not having understood the meaning of the poem, some of it was something else. Thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on.

She trailed after Janey and gazed at the monument. It was both beautiful and heart breaking. She wished the engravings on it stood for something less mournful but, in a way, she was glad that it was adorned with something. As she read the words, a sad little smile touched her lips and a sympathetic hand went to Janey’s shoulder. She wanted to say that the woman would make a wonderful mother but that might have caused more pain. “It’s strange,” she said instead. “How some people don’t get the chance to have children and those that maybe shouldn’t do. I’m sure there’s a reason for everything but... It can be hard to see the reason sometimes.”

Though normally Janey would have heard the girl’s incomplete thought and been curious to hear it finished, the cemetery was the one place where she allowed herself to be fully immersed in her own feelings. Here, the grief she felt for the children she’d lost and the mother she would never be was softened, because she could be reminded of what waited for her--and them--beyond death. Here she could feel her pain without drowning in it. But only here.

What she did catch, however, was Elle’s second comment--”those that maybe shouldn’t do”.
“It is difficult. Although, I don’t know that I believe there’s anyone who “shouldn’t” have children. There are good parents and not-so-good parents, but what makes the good ones more deserving? God doesn’t really know who will be a good parent until he sees them in action, after all.”

Elle frowned to herself and shrugged. ‘Shouldn’t’ had been too strong a word. “I suppose the not-so-good ones just need some help,” she backpedalled. Though she couldn’t help wondering why God wouldn’t be aware of something like that or at least do something about it. Then again, God was supposed to work in mysterious ways. “I think... Well, some people don’t really seem to appreciate their children. People who mistreat them or ignore them.” Or up and leave them altogether. “I’m not saying they shouldn’t have them but... They should appreciate them, that’s all.” She shrugged again, feeling that whatever point she was trying to make may have gotten lost somewhere along the line.

“I didn’t mean that you were wrong,” Janey replied in a gentler tone. As Elle has sidestepped her way around an answer, Janey had remembered some of the girl’s own family background, or what little of it she’d known about as her teacher. Which hadn’t been much, just that the girl’s mother was absent and there had been a lot of tension between Elle and her father’s wife--or perhaps simply mistress, she couldn’t quite remember. “It’s true--parents often give their children far less love than they deserve. Unfortunately, the children who most need it are often given the least attention.” That was why Janey tried especially hard to make sure that she interacted with all of her students one-on-one when possible--especially those whom she knew had troubled home lives, or parents too busy in their own lives to even spare a smile for them.

The somber look on Elle’s face was replaced by an almost beatific smile. “I’m glad I’ve been lucky in that way. I feel sort of guilty for saying it, because there are people who haven’t had it, but I’ve never really wanted for love or attention.” And with that smile and statement, she managed to spin the topic into a more positive, more comfortable, place. The dip into somewhat melancholy thoughts was promptly dismissed as being a product of being in the graveyard, a place with an inherent degree of melancholy, rubbing off on her. That was all. “I’d like to make it so every child could feel that way,” she continued. “Well, not just children but every person. It probably sounds silly but I’d like it so anyone who feels they’ve been forgotten could feel like they’ve been found again.”

“Is that why you come here to leave flowers for the graves that don’t get visited?” It was a powerful thought, the idea that even after death, these people were blessed by a complete stranger showing that she cared, that she remembered. Janey realized that even if she hadn’t known the people, Elle’s presence and prayers were in honor of the lives they’d lived. She should be praying for them, too. Not just the living or the people she’d lost.

Elle gave her a nod. “I suppose people might think it’s odd but it doesn’t matter to me that I didn’t know them, or that I’ll never get to. Seeing all the bare graves is just... sad.” Though her leaving flowers was only something small, she felt it made a difference. If nothing else, it showed that there were people who cared about strangers in the world. “It’s like with the soup kitchen - we might not see those people again for one reason or another, never fully get to know their stories but for a moment they’re not alone. They have people who want to make things better. A warm meal might not seem like much but it’s more than just a warm meal, isn’t it?”

Janey nodded. “It is. The problem is, I want to get to know them all. So I can help them. It breaks my heart to see them walk out the door, knowing they don’t have a warm bed to go home to. And with the regulars, when they just stop showing up, I always think the worst. Maybe taking care of these strangers--the ones who are already gone--is safer.” Janey paused and looked at Elle, really looked at her. With her bouquet of flowers and her wide, expressive eyes, she looked so vulnerable, and yet Janey felt nothing but awe at the inner strength the younger woman had. “But you don’t give up on the one that’s scarier--you do both.”

Elle echoed those sentiments exactly. She wouldn’t - or couldn’t - give up on someone or something that needed her help. What worried her was how meagre her contributions could seem to be. Many of her ideas were grand and impractical in the wider scheme of things, as much as she wished they weren’t. “That’s right. You do both.” Though Elle’s voice was soft, there was a firm note underlying it. “I try not to think about the scary side of it. Even if the worst does happen, it wasn’t because people just let it happen. They reached out. And maybe they’re not ready for it or they have too much pride to keep on coming back for handouts. Even if they do feel that way, we give them value. They’re a person again, not a hopeless bum or a problem of the city. I hope that the help we give them today helps them make a better tomorrow because they realise that they’re still worth something.”

They’re still worth something. Sometimes on her bad days Janey could lose track of that herself, remembering her worth. She toyed with the ribbon that kept the flowers together, and considered Elle’s words. The people they helped at the soup kitchen were reaching out, stepping past their pride and asking for help. That had to be scarier than any of the fear Janey felt for them. And what about the nights they spent in the streets? Janey shuddered. Some of those people had faced demons whose names and faces she would never know--nor did she want to. Who was she to be afraid, when she slept in a warm bed behind a door that locked, beside a husband who loved her so much that he would fight to the end to protect her? Being afraid for them would do nothing, but reaching out to them and helping them would.

“We have to be brave, too,” Janey murmured, finding her voice again amidst the rush of thoughts. “We do it for them.”

Elle watched Janey closely as she fiddled, wondering what was going through the woman’s mind. There was the slight twinge of worry that she’d said something wrong then relief when her companion spoke. “You are brave,” she answered with a reassuring nod. Elle had never really considered it in those terms and certainly didn’t think of herself as brave. That didn’t prevent her from seeing Janey in that light, however. “Not only do you work with the people at the soup kitchen, you work with the children at school. “It takes a lot to stand up in front of a bunch of kids and make them want to learn, to enjoy learning and see how wonderful the written word can be.” It went unsaid but she thought that coming to the monument was brave too.

“It’s something I’ve always been passionate about, but I suppose I never saw it as a form of bravery. I just want to make a difference,” Janey explained. That was all she’d ever wanted--to help others. Her gaze drifted to the monument for a moment. Sometimes she wondered if trying to have children had been a selfish act. She hadn’t done it for the children, after all. She’d done it for herself, to fill a need she had to nurture someone. She’d wanted to know the feeling of bringing something so tender and fragile into the world, and of seeing that beautiful child grow to be something wonderful. She’d wanted something of her own to give her heart to completely, in that transcendental way mothers did. Did that mean, then, that those children who had never breathed had died in Janey’s pursuit of a selfish dream? Maybe. That was a hard pill to swallow.

“You shouldn’t underestimate yourself,” Elle said gently. Gaze going downwards, she scuffed the ground with the toe of her shoe. “I’m not sure if it counts but you made a difference to me. In your class... I felt like I got something. Like I might be kind of good at something.” Elle and schoolwork had never gotten along particularly well. While she didn’t regard herself as completely stupid, she had been far too prone to daydreaming to excel. It was something that most teachers hadn’t hesitated in po
inting out. Finally looking back up at Janey she added, “It was nice.” A positive female influence had been sorely lacking in most of Elle’s life. The few that had been there were undoubtedly appreciated. “And I’m sorry. You said you were tired and I’m just standing here going on and on...” A blush crept into her cheeks. Sometimes she didn’t know when to stop.

Janey had to fight the urge to put her arm around Elle’s shoulder and give her a reassuring squeeze, like she did with her students. Elle was certainly no longer a student nor a child, and Janey knew that, but the feeling was still there. “Please don’t apologize, I’ve really enjoyed talking with you.” She ignored Elle’s comments about her teaching because she wasn’t sure how to respond. She was flattered, but she never knew how to react to compliments. Hopefully Elle wouldn’t be offended. “I came here certainly not expecting my mood to be uplifted, but it has been.”

Touched by Janey’s words, Elle smiled. “I’m glad,” she replied with a small, sincere nod. “And I hope we see each other again soon.” Walking backwards for a couple of steps, she waved goodbye to Janey. Then she turned to continue on through the graveyard, to finish giving out the last of her flowers.