I stood there for a long time before touching the stone. The name underneath “Beloved Mother” was a woman I’d never heard of, but the last name was ours, and the date of death was 2009. I called the cemetery office and asked who had purchased that fourth plot. The woman checked the original file and said the purchaser had specifically requested that the name remain confidential. Then she found a handwritten note attached to the deed. It said the plot was reserved for “family,” and the person who made the request had signed my husband’s full name.
I drove home and waited until he came through the door. I didn’t mention the cemetery. Instead, I asked him why there were four plots at Memorial Gardens when he’d always told me the three of us were the only people he’d planned for. He froze for just a second, then said he’d bought an extra one because the cemetery had offered a discount. I asked him why the fourth marker already had a name on it. He stopped answering. Finally, he asked me what name I’d seen. I told him. His face changed before I even finished saying it.
Then he sat down and told me the woman had been someone he knew before we met. He said she’d died unexpectedly in 2009 and that he’d promised her family he’d make sure she wasn’t buried alone. I asked why he’d never told me, and he said because there was a child involved. A child who had been told her mother was unmarried. I thought that was the worst of it until I opened the cemetery file I’d brought home. The fourth plot wasn’t reserved for the woman at all. It was reserved for the child — and my husband’s name was listed as her emergency contact.
