by Amy Cross
***
“My love, what are you doing?”
“What do you think I'm doing?” Catherine asked as she set the flowers down and began to wrap their stems in paper. “I'm taking flowers to our daughter's grave.”
“We already took flowers this morning,” Maximo pointed out. “Do you really need to -”
“Yes,” she replied, her hands trembling as she continued her work.
“But surely once a -”
“Would you rather leave her out there alone?” Catherine shouted, turning to him with tears in her eyes. “Unloved? Forgotten?”
“Nobody thinks we have forgotten her,” Maximo replied. “My love, she has been dead for less than a week, and in the ground for less than a day. If we don't -”
“I am her mother,” Catherine replied, interrupting him. “Perhaps for a father it is not the same, but I carried her inside my body, and I saw so much of myself and my own mother in her eyes. I can't simply leave her to rot in that coffin. I must go to her, and if you don't like this, there is nothing I can do to help you.” She turned and headed to the door, but at the last moment she stopped as she felt her knees weaken. Finally, she dropped to the floor, sobbing as Maximo hurried to comfort her.