Delia’s Legacy
by Alma Emil
This story originally appeared in the anthology Southern Truths. It is republished here with permission of B Cubed Press.
Clint Seeger spotted the three gravesites for sale on PlotsAreUs.biz and thought, Perfect. The listing read:
Three adjoining plots in the Gracious Redeemer section at Magnolia Grove Memorial Park, just off Main Street in historic Sherville. Family-owned since 1944. An exclusive setting that has been sold out for many years. $10,000.
Of course, Delia would need only one of the spaces, but he thought it best to have some insulation from other graves. At least for the time being.
As soon as he received the Certificates of Ownership from Magnolia Grove, Clint drove out to the old Sherville stone yard to order Delia’s headstone.
“Sorry, Clint.” Neville Parker, the Black man who owned the stone yard, shook his head. “You see, we don’t do much in the way of headstones anymore. It’s mostly boulders and pavers for those landscape designers down in Miami.” He waved one arm in the direction of a huge granite boulder being loaded onto a flatbed truck. “I still do some engraving for family, but you’ll get a much better price if you go with one of the big companies out of state. You pick a design from their online catalog and they ship your headstone direct to the cemetery. Sorry you drove out all this way. Should’ve called.”
Clint listened, then shook his head. “Neville,” he said, “This is a real special stone, and I need you to do it. Delia’s ill, likely to go in the next few months. I promised her she could see the stone beforehand, make sure it’s exactly what she wants.”
“Sorry to hear about that,” Parker said. He paused, sighed, and stepped one of his dusty workboots up on a slab of black marble. “Well, how about you folks write up what you want to see on the stone, and I’ll get you an estimate. Artwork—you know, angels, trees, and such—those’ll be extra.”
“Money’s not an issue,” Clint said. “And we can skip the angels. I brought the inscription with me.” He reached into his worn sports coat and pulled out a folded sheet of white paper. “See what you think.”
Parker took the paper, fished reading glasses from the pocket of his blue work shirt, and walked slowly over to the shade of the building. He unfolded the paper and read the few typed lines. Then he read it again. He looked over at Clint and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Just where you planning to put this stone, man?”
“Magnolia Grove Memorial Park. Gracious Redeemer section.”
Both of Parker’s eyebrows went up. “Heh. You don’t say. Well, I can get you a real good price on this one. I’d say you’re going to find out just how Gracious those Redeemers are.”
The two shook hands and Clint strode back to his car. Behind him, he could hear the stonemason chuckling, “Magnolia Grove. Gracious Redeemer section. We’ll see.”
Delia died peacefully three months later—far more peacefully than she’d lived, Clint reflected. He received the usual round of effusive condolences that were de rigueur in a small Southern town. Many friends and neighbors, most of them elderly, attended the funeral. For all that Delia had rabble-roused her way through life, she and Clint were still from two of Sherville’s oldest and most respected families. Their ancestors dated back to the bad old days of the antebellum South. Especially as they’d grown older, their liberal opinions and progressive politics had been dismissed as quaint and harmless. One neighbor, seeing a “Biden for President” sign in their front yard, had remarked to her minister that both of the Seegers must have dementia.
After a quiet graveside ceremony, Delia Seeger was left to rest in peace for six months. Then, after the grave dirt had settled properly, her headstone arrived and was “placed” by the groundskeepers. All hell broke loose the following morning.
Clint was not surprised to get a call from Magnolia Grove.
“Mr. Seeger,” the cemetery manager began.
Clint grinned. The man’s tone, usually unctuous, was for once truly mournful. “Yes?” Clint said.
“Mr. Seeger, I’m afraid that your wife’s headstone… well, it’s in violation of the cemetery’s regulations,” the manager said.
“Really? You’ll have to show me which ones. My attorney and I went over your regulations in detail, and he assured me my dear wife’s headstone is entirely acceptable.”
The cemetery manager spluttered like a panful of fried green tomatoes. Meanwhile, reporters began knocking at Clint’s front door. He was prepared, with printouts about Delia’s distinguished career in law, journalism, and politics ready in a stack by the front door.
Late that night, while everyone else in town was busy watching Sherville’s mayor trying to explain the headstone situation on the 11 o’clock news, Clint clipped a bouquet of white blossoms from Delia’s favorite lilac bush. Then he strolled the ten blocks over to Magnolia Grove Memorial Park. The elaborate wrought-iron gates of the cemetery were locked for the night, but Clint knew about a gap in the magnolia hedge out by the caretaker’s shed. It was conveniently near the Gracious Redeemer section.
He strolled to Delia’s grave, knelt, and blinked back his tears. “You’re still giving them hell, dear,” he said. “I love you.”
He set the bouquet of lilacs down in front of a handsome granite headstone bearing the epitaph:
Here lies Delia Jefferson Seeger
Lifelong activist, feminist, and crusader for human rights
Born December 4, 1953
Died of embarrassment
November 6, 2024
at the hands of the Republican Party