Thirteen-year-old Zachary Hanson walked through the quiet cemetery. It was a beautiful day. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he approached a headstone.
Corey Misae Jennings, it read. Zac bit his lower lip, willing the tears that threatened his eyes not to fall.
“Hi, Mrs. Hanson,” he whispered. His nose began to sting so he rubbed it before continuing. “Sorry I haven’t been by to visit since the funeral. I was really busy, but I know that’s no excuse.” He took the backpack he was carrying off his back. “I brought you something,” he said, unzipping it. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out a thin plastic square. He laid it against her headstone. “Toldya I’d get ya a copy of the new CD,” he said, forcing a smile.
He sighed. “I still wear the wedding ring,” he said to the headstone. “People always ask why I wear it and I tell them I got married. No one believes me. I guess it’s just as well.
“Thanks for Itzy. He makes his rounds between me, Ike and Tay’s rooms. We bring him whenever we go somewhere - like promo stuff or recording. Anything. Sometimes I talk to him.” Zac laughed. “I pretend he’s you.”
Once more, he looked through his backpack. Finally, he pulled out the blue notebook. “I haven’t read it yet,” he admitted. “I just can’t bring myself to, y’know? But I guess,” he paused, wiping his eyes clear of unshed tears. “I guess now’s as good a time as any, huh?”
Zac opened the notebook. The will had been taken out, so the first page was now an entry. He read over each entry carefully. There were only five. He read over the last on quite a few times. Then, finally, he looked at the headstone. “You know what, Corey? I felt the same way - about the love. And, Corey, I never felt sorry for you.”
Zac was aware of rustling behind him. He turned to see Isaac. “We’ve gotta go, Zac. I’m sorry.”
He nodded, understanding. Slowly, he stood up and started back toward the rental car with Isaac. Taylor was behind the wheel, waiting patiently. When Ike and Zac were inside the car, Tay started away from the cemetery.
Zac stared at Corey’s last entry. Then, inspiration struck him. He rummaged through his backpack until he found the pen with blue flowers Corey had left to him. He uncapped it and steadied the notebook on his knee.
Sunday, 4-11-99
I went to Corey’s grave today. It’s hard letting go. It’s not fair that she’s gone - she was only twelve years old. It’s just not right.
But I suppose as in anything, her death served a purpose. She was so wise. She showed me the true meaning of life. She told me once, “You never value life so much as when you know you don’t have much life left.” Maybe that’s not entirely true. Since she died, I’ve been valuing life a lot more. Everything is different now. I try and look at everything the way she’d look at it.
Corey, you said you’d never forget what we did for you as long as we never forgot you. Well, there’s no chance of me ever forgetting you. I mean, I’ll always remember my first love, won’t I?
