Funny the conversations you find yourself in over the course of 19 years with someone. Cory and I loved this book, and enjoyed making fun of the not-as-well-made movie that followed it. Anyone who has read the book knows the story isn’t really about supernatural powers and pint-sized killers; it’s about the power of grief, and the enormous love a parent feels for their child.
Cory had read the book, and I remember her asking me if anything ever happened to her, would I do it? Would I commit a crime, rob her grave, dig up her sad remains, carry her broken body to the nearest haunted burial grounds, and reinter it –hoping for the best- but knowing, in my heart of hearts, that she may return “diminished”, a damaged shadow of her former self?
Every time we watched that movie, Cory asked me that question, “Would you, Mom? Would you do that for me?”
With the confidence of a complete idiot- surely she would outlive me, and I would never bury her in the first place- I answered each and every time with a resounding, “Hell, yeah!”
With the confidence of a complete idiot- surely she would outlive me, and I would never bury her in the first place- I answered each and every time with a resounding, “Hell, yeah!”
I think about it now when I’m sitting beside her at the cemetery, fighting the mad compulsion to simply jump onto her mound of dirt, and dig her out with my bare hands. Where’s the haunted Micmac burial grounds when you really need them?
Thanks a hell of a lot, Stephen King. There’s nothing like false hope.
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