The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Spring 2019

There was such a lukewarm breeze that blew so subtly by the cemetery that late morning. It kept on flowing until it eventually settled and abided inside the quiet, spacious stretch of land that was home to various collections of tombstones and mausoleums. In the far off distance could be seen a funeral service being conducted, while a few people sporadically scattered in certain spots walked and toured the grounds in solemn contemplation. In one particular part of the grounds, underneath a budding maple tree, rested three gravestones. Standing tall above one of the three graves was a certain man in his mid-forties by the name of Isaiah.

He had become a fairly well-built man. His thick, well-groomed dreadlocks that were tied to the back bristled in the breeze while his goatee seemed to itch for no apparent reason the longer he stood looking down. He had his hands clinched together as his knees kept buckling underneath him. Every so often he would push his eyeglasses back onto his face while taking glances to make sure he was still all alone in his area.

"Even till this day I still get reports of you from various people in the family. Aunt Jackie still can't even stand to hear your name being uttered." He snickered. "Every so often I'll look at your pictures and just wonder what could have been." Isaiah then took a deep breath before shutting his eyes momentarily. "I still get these crazy images in my mind from time to time, wondering just where in the world they even come from. But in my life, I've come to realize that not everyone is or was what they seemed to be, or were reported to be." Isaiah grinned. "I remember glances of you. You holding me, playing with me. So I figure if I have those recollections, then it doesn't really matter what someone else has to say. All they could ever tell me was that you just up and left one day...and never returned. At least that's what grandma and grandpa said. But I know for a fact that after all that I've been through in my life, you were always right there by my side. Somehow, someway, I always knew that."

Isaiah then turned away for a second. "I can't believe I'm even talking like this. But then again, I'd hope if the situation were different, I'd want my kids to say the same thing about me. So, um...that's all I came by to say after all these years. Sorry it took so long to come and say it, but...I've never been a sentimental kind of guy. I just pray that you continue to rest in peace. And always know that...that I never hated you." Isaiah wiped his nose real quick before hearing footsteps creep up behind him. He composed himself and turned to see his mother walking up with her hands inside her jacket pockets. "Where were you all this time?" Isaiah looked strangely.

"I was over there talking to my mama and daddy." Lynnette quaintly nodded her head backwards.

The two of them stood over the three graves for a few moments before Isaiah looked over at his mom and asked, "Are you okay?"

Grinning slightly, Lynnette meekly replied, "Yeah...I just can't believe I'm here."

"Yeah, me neither." Isaiah shrugged. "Feels like we're in another world."

it feels like

next to his mother a bit longer before he kissed her on the cheek and whispered, "I'll be waiting

from Mr. and Mrs. Mercer and eventually their son. All three markers were set perfectly side by side each other in a row. All Lynnette could possibly do was stare at Isaac's grave for what felt like an eternity. The flowing of emotions that she had been expecting hadn't

Lynnette that she couldn't even bat an eyelash. She wanted to speak out loud, but her mouth was immobile as was her entire body for that matter. The woman

here since your mama died." She struggled to utter. "I didn't even come when your father passed. And that really hurt me, too. But

job working as a secretary for a banking firm. Worked there in different positions for about thirty some odd years before I called it quits. Isaiah is a school teacher. I personally never saw that one coming. Raising a son on your own isn't all it's cracked up to be." She rolled her eyes. "Rap

to hold, but instead she found herself slipping deeper and deeper into a trance that only seemed to annoy her with every passing minute underneath the maple

"I...I've been through a few relationships here and there." Lynnette said. "I'll admit that I wasn't the model mate...or mother. Yeah, I have an attitude. And I realize that attitude has chased a lot of men away. But then again, I had more important things on my mind. Things like what, you ask?" She nodded. "Ohh...old, cold winters. Some of the old music we used

there that Lynnette caught herself and held on as tight as she could.

"I can't stand here and pretend like I'm in another world. I didn't come all the

this. "Dear Lynn, I wanted so much to leave when you told me what you told me. But something told me to stick around. I'm still pissed off at what you did. I know I've never been the best boyfriend to you, but damn, did I deserve that? But deep down, I just want you to know that I still love you. I love Isaiah too. I want to be his dad more than anything. I just have to deal with this the best I can. Even though he has his doubts, dad still doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way. Look, we'll deal with this the best way we can. All I can say to you is that I'm not perfect. I fuck up sometimes here and there. I can't promise that I won't fuck up here and there again, but I can promise that I will

With the crumpled letter in her hand, Lynnette looked back

"Isaiah met William three years ago. But I'm so sorry he never got to know his real dad better. I'm so sorry for it all, Isaac. I'm trying so hard to forgive myself after all these years. I keep going back and forth in my head who was wrong and who was right? Should I have done this? Or if you hadn't done that. All I do is make myself go even crazier. No matter where I end up, it all leads back to one thing. I went along with the lie for so long that I actually convinced myself that Isaiah even looked like you. But no matter what,

I can't even speak of it. I can't even say one word. Your son loves those kinds of movies, but all I do is turn away. Was it...real?" She caught her slipping breath. "Because if it was, then what

before saying, "I remember our final night together. In that bathroom, I used to wonder if you really did want to kill me. But I also