His parents were situated1 close to the perimeter2 of the cemetery3, and it was a while before he found their graves by the iron fence that separated the last row of burial plots from a narrow side street that appeared to be a makeshift rest stop for truckers taking a break from their turnpike run. In the years since he'd last been here, he'd forgotten the effect the first sight of the headstone had on him. He saw their two names carved there, and he was incapacitated by the kind of sobbing4 that overpowers babies and leaves them limp. He elicited5 easily enough his last recollection of each of them — the hospital recollection — but when he tried to call up the earliest recollection, the effort to reach as far back as he could in their common past caused a second wave of feeling to overwhelm him.
They were just bones, bones in a box, but their bones were his bones, and he stood as close to the bones as he could, as though the proximity6 might link him up with them and mitigate7 the isolation8 born of losing his future and reconnect him with all that had gone. For the next hour and a half, those bones were the things that mattered most. They were all that mattered, despite the impingement of the neglected cemetery's environment of decay. Once he was with those bones he could not leave them, couldn't not talk to them, couldn't but listen to them when they spoke9. Between him and those bones there was a great deal going on, far more than now transpired10 between him and those still clad in their flesh. The flesh melts away but the bones endure. The bones were the only solace11 there was to one who put no stock in an afterlife and knew without a doubt that God was a fiction and this was the only life he'd have. As young Phoebe might have put it back when they first met, it was not going too far to say that his deepest pleasure now was at the cemetery. Here alone contentment was attainable12.
He did not feel as though he were playing at something. He did not feel as though he were trying to make something come true. This was what was true, this intensity13 of connection with those bones.
His mother had died at eighty, his father at ninety. Aloud he said to them, "I'm seventy-one. Your boy is seventy-one." "Good. You lived," his mother replied, and his father said, "Look back and atone14 for what you can atone for, and make the best of what you have left."
He couldn't go. The tenderness was out of control. As was the longing15 for everyone to be living. And to have it all all over again.
1 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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2 perimeter | |
n.周边,周长,周界 | |
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3 cemetery | |
n.坟墓,墓地,坟场 | |
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4 sobbing | |
<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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5 elicited | |
引出,探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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7 mitigate | |
vt.(使)减轻,(使)缓和 | |
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8 isolation | |
n.隔离,孤立,分解,分离 | |
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9 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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10 transpired | |
(事实,秘密等)被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 ); 泄露; 显露; 发生 | |
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11 solace | |
n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
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12 attainable | |
a.可达到的,可获得的 | |
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13 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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14 atone | |
v.赎罪,补偿 | |
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15 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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