Bye, Bye Beautiful
She didn't understand what was going on. What was this Revolution that everybody kept talking about? Why did Mother cry and Father pace back and forth all day long? Where was Oscar? Where was her handsome André?
Everybody was talking about them, but she looked and looked and still couldn't find them. Oscar's hair was so pretty, and André was so tall that she knew she would find them easily if they were there.
Her mother sent her to get some pretty flowers from the flowerbeds. She was excited because Mother never let her cut flowers from the lavish gardens. When she asked what they were for, tears sprung to her mother's eyes before a reply tumbled from her lips, her voice sounding broken.
"They're for your Aunt Oscar and… André, sweetheart."
Oh! Well, if they were for Oscar and André, she would do a really good job. She ran outside and picked the most beautiful flowers that she could. Right before she went inside, she snipped off an armful of white roses. She remembered seeing André stare at them, and she reasoned that he must like them very much!
But after the long drive, when she got out of the carriage and they stopped walking to stand in front of two stones, confusion flickered across her face. What was this? Rose bushes had been planted beside the graves. Graves. They were graves.
Suddenly, everything hit her at once, and throwing her flowers on the recently churned up dirt, she took her mother's skirts in her hands and buried her face in the thick fabric.
"They're not dead!" she screamed, and she didn't care that she was making a spectacle of herself. Why hadn't anyone told her? Why did they think that she would be too young to understand what death was? She knew what death was! She knew! And now, now she was standing in front of the eternal resting place of…of Aunt Oscar and her handsome André.
She cried, her tears leaving hot wet trails down her cheeks.
"I don't understand, I don't understand," she moaned, and nobody answered her. But she knew why.
They were standing in front of the graves of two people they had known and loved for years, perhaps for a lifetime.
And they didn't understand, either.
It might seem lame, but I have plans for lovely little Loulou! At any rate, I think she's old enough to know what death is by the year 1789, but she might not realize that Oscar and André are actually dead if nobody told her outright. But confronted with their graves, she really would have no choice but to acknowledge it.
Even though I was older than Loulou would be when I lost my beloved aunt—who was older than Oscar at the time of her death—I still remember it.
Feedback is appreciated, as always. (Sorry for the short chapter.)