Secrets Left Neglected

Chapter 55

BEFORE

Caoilainn

There's a loose pebble in the dirt that I'm solemnly rocking my big toe against as I sway on my grandmother's tire swing.

I'm in the front yard by myself. The traitorous sun is shining, the clueless robins are chirping in the trees across the street and the dry dirt feels smooth and warm under my feet. My flip flops sit abandoned against the trunk of the tree.

There're three ropes coming up from the tire swing, making a little canopy of which I can hang my arms as I sit there doing my best not to cry. I'm all alone.

I had to get away. Listening to everyone talk and laugh, while my grandmother lays cold in the ground, closed away in a box under all of that dirt and grime, was making me angry. I had to come outside and get away.

How can they sit there and speak to one another as if Grandmother's still alive? How can they move about her kitchen, opening her drawers, moving her apron off of its hook, so they can hang up an errant jacket or sweater from a guest? Do they miss her stirring around in there, offering people candied orange slices, or a cool glass of lemonade?

I do.

I kick my feet in the dirt making the tire swing move in lazy circles.

I miss her a lot.

Sniffling, I rub my fingers under my eyes to wipe off some tears.

"Caoilainn?" I hear him call tentatively.

He's standing almost behind the tree looking unsure of himself. He has a small bunch of yellow dandelions in his hand but he's trying to hide them behind his back.

"Tadhg?" I answer, wiping my eyes again before asking, "What are you doing out here?"

He slowly moves forward, shiny new shoes kicking up dust in his approach. "I came to pay my respects, Caoi," he explains. "I know you loved her a whole a lot. I did, too. She was always good to me."

"Oh," I say. "Thank you. I'm glad you came.

I was just sitting out here thinking about her."

"Yeah," Tadhg replies. "I understand."

"You do?" I ask.

"Well, yeah," Tadhg explains. "I know she meant a lot to you and that you were close. I, um, I brought you some dandelions. I know it's not much, but, I thought maybe they might cheer you up." He steps forward to hand them to me. "Here," he says. "Hold on to them, and I'll give you a push on the swing."

I nod my ascent and reach for the flowers. I have to bite my lip so that I don't tear up again. Only Tadhg would bring dandelions to my grandmother's funeral reception. Other people might think them nothing more than a child's thought, but they don't know what the gesture means to me.

When we were about 7-years-old, my grandmother told Tadhg and I that she wanted to plant a flower garden. She said she had wanted one for a long time, but that it was too expensive and too time-consuming to do when she was raising children. Now that she was older, and had saved up, she decided to move forward with her plans.

She had it in mind to plant as many yellow flowers as she could find; roses, yarrow, tulips, daffodils, primrose, lilies, freesia; you name it. If it was yellow it was on her list. To Grandmother, yellow was the color of happiness. And so, the more she had, the prettier her yard would be.

By Grandmother's figuring, she said she could afford to plant a few new flowers each season and eventually, she'd be able to cover her entire yard in a happy yellow blanket of beauty.

I smiled at the memory.

Soon after revealing her plans to us, Grandmother took us to the nearby rugby field. Tadhg had a game and while there we overheard his coach explaining to the groundskeeper that he needed to kill the dandelion plant they found in center field right away. The coach explained that just one plant could result in a whole field of dandelion plants overnight.

Needless to say, when Tadhg and I overheard the coach talking about dandelions, we knew just what to do. We ran into the woods and found a nearby meadow. Plucking as many dandelions as we could, we grabbed them up and ran back to Grandmother's. We didn't tell her what we were doing. We wanted to surprise her.

We must have blown a thousand dandelion wishes across her yard, in the front, around the sides and out back. Everywhere!

Within days, Grandmother's yard was filled with dandelion flowers. Yellow heads and wishes were everywhere.

I shake my head at the memory.

I had never heard my Grandmother curse until the day she woke up to count not one, not two, or even three dandelion plants in her previously bright green grass, but 16 of them! And that was just what she found out front. You should have seen the rest of the yard! Good grief, My grandmother and the local truckers had a lot of vocabulary in common that day. It was quite the ordeal.

As it turned out, Tadhg and I, feeling terrible, dug up all of the dandelion plants we could find. But since they kept coming back we ended up spending each week of that summer uprooting new ones. Eventually, it got so bad that Grandmother ended up calling a lawn service to deal with the problem. It wasn't long before her grass was green and weed-free again. Ever since that summer, Tadhg and I have tried to make up for it by bringing and planting a new yellow plant in her yard each spring. At this point, Grandmother's yard is a bouquet of beauty.

If only she were here to see it with us. I watch a bumblebee hop from sunshine-colored iris to iris before looking up at Tadhg again.

"I'm really glad you came today," I tell him. "Thank you, Tadhg."

"Can I sit with you?" he asks, slowing the swing a little bit. I nod and he climbs on the other side, gripping the ropes with me. When he's situated and balanced he leans forward and back giving us some momentum. Then he reaches across to me, putting his hand out facing palm up.

I close my own hand around his and lean forward through the ropes. He closes the distance and lets me rest my head on his shoulder.