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Chapter XIX: Memorare
Another night falls, and as Liz drifts into sleep, her dreams take her to Jardin de la Consolacion, a vast funeral park on the outskirts of Ciudad Fernandina. In her dream, she is accompanied by Bennett, walking beside her with his usual gentle smile.
They take a tricycle to the funeral park, chatting along the way. Liz reminisces about the relative they are about to visit, a young man who tragically passed away in a motorcycle accident in the northern province. The ride is smooth, yet a strange sense of nostalgia tugs at Liz's heart. She glances at Bennett, who listens intently to her stories, occasionally nodding in acknowledgment.
Upon arriving, they make their way through the cemetery, passing by well-decorated tombs and grand mausoleums until they reach the grave of Liz's relative. There is no lapida, no headstone—just a simple marker with his name inscribed on it. Liz kneels and places a small snack on the grave, a customary offering she had seen others do.
Bennett watches her and then gently asks,
"Is this all you would want to do for him?"
Liz pauses, realizing she had forgotten to bring candles. She hesitates, feeling a bit guilty for her lack of preparation. Before she can say anything, Bennett reaches into his bag and takes out three candles. He places them carefully on the grave and lights them, their flickering glow casting a soft warmth over the marker.
Liz exhales deeply before hugging Bennett.
"I hope he's at peace now," she murmurs, her voice laced with emotion.
After a moment of silence, Liz speaks to her deceased relative, expressing her apologies for not visiting sooner and hoping that he is now in a better place. Tears sting her eyes, but she wipes them away, leaning into Bennett's embrace for comfort.
Once Liz finishes, Bennett closes his eyes and whispers his own message.
"I may not have known you in life, but I promise to always take care of Liz, to love and protect her with all my heart. May you rest in peace, knowing she is in good hands."
Liz tightens her grip on his arm, deeply moved by his sincerity.
After their prayer, Bennett takes out a small bottle of Holy Water and sprinkles it over the grave. Curious, Liz tilts her head and asks,
"Why do we do this?"
Bennett turns to her and offers a gentle explanation.
"Holy Water is a sacramental—it's not just water, but a reminder of our baptism, our faith, and the cleansing grace of God. When we sprinkle it on graves, we ask for God's blessings and protection for the souls of the departed. It's a way of showing that, even in death, they are not forgotten and remain in our prayers."
Liz listens intently, absorbing every word.
"I see," she says softly, nodding in understanding.
"That's beautiful."
Bennett smiles warmly before placing an arm around her shoulder.
"Come on. Let's head to the mall."
As the scene shifts, Liz suddenly wakes up, her heart pounding. She sits up, blinking away the tears that have welled up in her eyes. Reaching for Bennett's picture on her bedside table, she hugs it tightly against her chest.
Still holding onto the photograph, she glances at her phone and gasps—there is a serve scheduled for today.
"All Saints' Day," she whispers to herself, realization dawning upon her.
Wasting no time, she rushes downstairs for breakfast. As she eats, Dominga, Dolores, and her grandmother stare at her, bewildered by her sudden burst of energy.
"Are you alright?" her grandmother asks, raising an eyebrow.
Liz, still chewing, nods vigorously.
"Please prepare my cassock and surplice, Abuelita. I need to get ready quickly."
Her grandmother chuckles but obliges, heading to retrieve Liz's vestments while Liz hurriedly finishes her meal.
Wrapped in a towel after her bath, Liz peeks out from the bathroom door.
"Abuelita, is it ready?" she calls.
"Yes, yes," her grandmother replies with a shake of her head.
"You're really in a rush today."
Once she is dressed and prepared, Liz and her grandma make their way to Ciudad Fernandina, ready to fulfill her duty as a server on this sacred day.
Liz and her grandma arrive at Colegio Metropolitana de San Pablo, the bustling atmosphere of the school signaling the solemn yet significant day ahead. As they walk toward the auditorium corner, Liz spots Wyn hurriedly adjusting her cassock. With a mischievous grin, she sneaks up behind her friend and playfully startles her.
"Liz!" Wyn exclaims, holding her chest in exaggerated shock.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Liz chuckles, adjusting her own cassock.
"You should be used to my surprises by now."
The two laugh together before heading inside the chapel, taking their places among the servers. The mass begins, the solemnity of the occasion evident in every hymn, every prayer, every gesture of the congregation. When the priest reaches the homily, Liz and Wyn listen intently, absorbing his words.
The priest speaks of the saints, of their unwavering efforts in faith, their sacrifices, and the inspiration they provide for the living. He then transitions to a more personal reflection, urging the congregation to also remember those who have done good, charitable, and beneficial things in their lives.
Liz feels a pang in her heart. Her mind drifts into a sea of memories—Bennett's warm smile, his unwavering patience, the little acts of kindness he had done for her, which she had often overlooked. She had been blinded by greed, by selfish desires, and had taken his presence for granted. Tears well up in her eyes, but before they can fall, Wyn gently nudges her.
"Hey, don't be sad now," Wyn whispers, offering her a reassuring smile.
"I'm sure he knows."
Liz nods, though her heart remains heavy. The homily deepens, urging the congregation to remember those they have lost and to pray for them, regardless of where they may be. Whether alive or departed, prayer holds power, an unbreakable bond between souls.
As Liz steps forward for communion, she places the Eucharist in her mouth, bowing her head in deep prayer. She prays for the souls of her departed relatives, for those who have gone before her. But most of all, she prays for Bennett.
After the mass, Wyn turns to her, curious.
"Liz, why did you pray for Bennett? He's not..."
Liz interrupts, her voice firm yet soft.
"He's missing, Wyn. I don't want him to die. But until I find him, I want to keep him in my prayers. It doesn't mean that if you're praying on All Saint's Day, it's about the dead. No, this is a regular prayer"
Wyn gives her a look of understanding.
"I get it. You're not giving up on him."
Liz nods, a small, sad smile forming on her lips.
"I can't. He is really the person I want to be with, I appreciate everything I didn't see on him when I was blinded by greed."
With the mass concluding with the final blessing, Liz and her grandma decide to indulge in a small treat. They head to the Plaza, enjoying warm, freshly made empanaditas, the rich flavors offering a temporary distraction from the emotions stirring within Liz.
As the afternoon sun begins to wane, they make their way to Jardin de la Consolacion, the funeral park nestled in the outskirts of Ciudad Fernandina. The sight of gravestones and fresh flowers reminds Liz of the countless times she and Bennett had visited this place together. She gazes up at the sky, the twinkling stars beginning to appear, their silent presence comforting her.
Later that night, back home, Liz sits at her desk, a blank sheet of paper before her. She picks up her pen, hesitating only for a moment before allowing her thoughts to flow onto the page. She writes a heartfelt letter to Bennett, pouring out everything she has realized that day:
Bennett,
I don't know where you are right now. I don't even know if you'll ever read this, but I need to write this down because keeping it inside hurts too much.
Today, I realized something that I should have known a long time ago. I was selfish. I took you for granted. You were always there for me—patient, kind, understanding—even when I didn't deserve it. You stood by me when I was at my worst, and I never truly thanked you for it.
I used to think love was about grand gestures, about words spoken in the heat of the moment. But now I see that love is in the little things—the way you made sure I was never alone, the way you never asked for anything in return, the way you believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself.
I'm sorry, Bennett. For all the times I hurt you without realizing it. For all the moments you were patient while I was blind. For not appreciating you the way I should have. I wish I could go back and change things, but I can't. All I can do now is hope that wherever you are, you're safe. That one day, I'll see you again and tell you everything I never had the courage to say.
I miss you, Bennett. More than words can say. I love you more than words can express.
Yours, always,
Liz
As she finishes writing, she stares at the words, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She signs her name at the bottom, carefully folding the letter and placing it inside her journal.
With a deep breath, she kneels beside her bed, clasping her hands together in prayer.
"Please," she whispers, "let him be safe."
She then kisses Bennett's picture one last time before turning off the light, allowing sleep to finally take her, carrying her into another dream—perhaps one where Bennett is still by her side.
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