When they reached the grave they lowered the coffin. The bear and his helper strapped a slab of concrete to the front loader. They lowered it into the grave. When the bear was satisfied the backhoe filled the grave. They raked the mound smooth and rearranged flowers around the headstone. Over the years I became an expert at burial - I buried one of those I watched.
When they retired to the building Shannie emerged from the trees. She carried the mud pie with an upturned hand. She sat the pie on the grave, said a few words and returned home. I was disappointed, I imagined her in a black dress, complete with a widow's vale, walking at some mourning pace. At the grave I imagined her leading an elaborate one woman ceremony to coax the deceased to leave us mortal kids alone.
Watching Shannie taught me despite how often I think it should, the world doesn't conform to my expectations. It's an idea I still struggle with.
An hour later, Shannie and I walked across Fernwood. "Really? You've never stepped foot in a bone yard?" We climbed the side steps of a converted chapel.
"Nope." Inside the TV babbled. Shannie banged on the screen door. The bear sat at the kitchen table eating a hoagie.
"Hi Doll. Who's your friend?" His voice was deep and scratchy.
"This is James, he's our new neighbor," Shannie led me into the kitchen. The linoleum floor sported stains, rips and tears. The pealing cabinets were in desperate need of a paint job. Dirty dishes littered the sink. "He lives in the old Manson house."
I jumped as the door slammed shut. "Jesus boy, don't piss on the floor," Bear said. The metal frame chair strained under his weight.
"James's creeped out. He's never been in a graveyard before."
"No need to be boy, I never had me better neighbors than them dead ones, excluding present company of course."
"James meet Mr. Lightman. He's the caretaker."
My head tilted upwards. He wiped his hand on his work clothes before extending his paw. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you," His hand swallowed mine.
"Where you from boy?"
"California, sir"
"Don't call me sir, I work for a living. "Mr. Lightman will do. What part of California?"
"Pleasanton, near San Francisco."
"I know where it is, son. I spent time at Oakland army base - a long time ago." He sat back down and gnawed at the hoagie. "What brings you to dodge?"