Once the car stopped, I threw my stiletto heels on the ground and ran to their burial site. “How did you? I didn’t! Oh, my god, they’re beautiful.” I’d never seen anything like it, and I hope I can explain it accurately because it really was a work of art. I looked around wildly at the miniature replica of my dad’s study on one side. Dad had already planned his installation years before when they purchased their burial plots, so neither Jason nor I knew what it was going to look like.
At the base, was a very light marble platform that everything sat on top of. To one side—Dad’s side—was a marble desk with a wooden chair built into the platform. I immediately ran over and sat down, and I ran my hands over the desk, feeling the intricately carved letters on the top of it. It was nearly an exact replica of his own desk because carved into the top of the marble desk was my initials, and to my amazement, it was exactly as I had carved them in my father’s desk when I was ten years old—with his permission, of course.
Looking across the installment, I saw the spitting image of my mother’s vanity desk where we spent many hours together doing our hair and putting makeup on. There was a large mirror serving as a divider made of marble, so it wasn’t exactly a functional mirror. In my mother’s handwriting—as if she’d written on the mirror with lipstick—was written, I love you, always and forever. These were the same words my mother had spoken to me every night of my life when she put me to bed. Even when my father couldn’t be there because he was on a business trip or working late, my mother was always there. She always made me feel safe and loved. But the thing that nearly brought me to my knees was the bookcase that ran the entire length of the platform. They even had marble replications of our favorite books permanently installed in the bookcase.
“It’s incredible,” Dylan said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s more than incredible,” I said. “It’s the most amazingly special thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I have no words for how much this means to me.” My dad really outdid himself when he designed this. I remember when he did because he spent a lot of time in meetings at funeral homes and designers’ offices. The only thing I hated about it was that he never felt any joy from seeing my first reaction to it. If there really were a God, he (or she) would have allowed my mom and dad to be here the first time I saw it. Of course, I could feel their presence, but I think it was only because so much of their personalities and our lives went into the design.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish