Purple Pearls

It had been two years since her grandmother had passed on, but she was still close to her tender spirit. She could feel her presence throughout her home, especially when she would whip up a nice dinner for nobody but herself. Today was different, though. Today was when everyone gathered at her home to celebrate the loss of old grandma Madeline.

It seemed as if her husband ignored her every attempt to season the sauce or check on the pot roast in the oven. After she would throw in some season all or paprika, her husband would follow and do the exact thing that she had just done.

“You’re gonna ruin it, Steve. You’re throwing in double the amount of everything,” she said to him, as he set the ladle down on the counter next to the sauce pot. She winced at the spot that the deep red sauce left behind and grabbed a sponge that rested on the top of the sink to scrub it clean. As she did so, Steve turned his back to her and sparked up general conversation to entertain the dinner guests.

The house served as a stone reminder of the history of their family and those who had impacted it. Baby pictures of the family that surrounded the time lined the walls and coffee tables that made up the dining room that they currently resided in. Reminiscing and laughter accompanied the aroma in the air that was created with love and passion, making the aura one that even the most sadistic of men would crumble to.

As she put the various ingredients back inside the cabinet where she found them, she peered around the room to take in the joy that was effortlessly consuming everybody else. She felt an odd combination of happiness and sorrow. The happiness was coming from an obvious source, just being here with her extended family once more. Accepting that people move on and grow up to become more focused on their own lives was a tougher pill to swallow when you grew with these people. The sorrow stemmed from her knowing that the only thing that made this special was the rarity of it. She tried her best to take it all in.

There was aunt Phyllis and uncle Charlie sitting across from each other, and ooh, there was grandpa Ed. She wondered how he was holding it together since the passing of his dear wife of fifty-two years. They had dated for seven years before that, and it was obvious that their bond left a gaping hole deep inside of him. Honestly, he had looked like he had lost best friend, well, because he had. Although she knew full well that that kind of love had been long extinct, it didn’t stop her from keeping her hopes up. Okay, she knew it was a long shot. She hadn’t been able to stand the existence of her husband for the past seven months, but that was beside the point.

She could barely wait to see the reaction she’d get once she stepped out of the kitchen, plates of delicious entrees in hand, wearing her grandmother’s pearls that she left to her around her neck and wrist alike. She was saving them for a moment that she could assign meaning to, and today was her most perfect opportunity. Surely nobody would forget the image of her stepping out with these shiny, brilliantly purple pearls. The fact that she resembled her grandmother more than any of her birth parents would add to the moment, she deduced.

Lowering the heat to slightly above simmer, she stepped away from the stove and entered her bedroom. She had almost forgotten that she was already wearing the pearls, keeping them concealed under the sleeves of her shirt and neck of her sweater respectively.  She tried to look in the mirror, but couldn’t bring herself to raise her head up enough from the floor to do so. She wasn’t sure if she was terrified of what would be looking back at her or if she wasn’t as ready for all of this as she had first thought.

One thing that she was sure of was that she’d never been surer about anything in her entire life. Walking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, she was surprised at what she was unfolding in front of her. There was three candles on the table that was draped with a white tablecloth, one candle at each end, and one in the middle of the table. Her husband had taken it upon herself to serve the meal to the family, and had even assumed the responsibility to say grace.

She stomped her feet and scurried off back into her bedroom where she sat on the bed and cried into her lap, her dirty blonde locks gently grazing her knees. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head around slowly so see that nobody was behind her. She knew what she felt, and her gut was telling her that her grandmother felt her in need from the beyond.

As she rose to her feet and wiped her tears, she turned to face herself in the mirror. Mustering up every ounce of courage that resided in her body, she heard the voice of her grandmother as soon as she met the mirror. There was no reflection looking back at her as Madeline asked her one question. Tranquility set in as the words crept through her ears.

“When are you going to accept that you’re dead, sweetie?”