Summary:  The unimaginable is never easy.
Rating:  G  (845 words)

Originally written for the Pinecone Challenge July 2025 using:

Remember Me with Smiles and Laughter for that is How I will Remember You
Michael Landon, LHOTP, S2 Ep. 7,8 – “Remember Me”

Remember Me, Remember You

A man, woman, and young child stood stoically within the confines of the family cemetery where members of the Cartwright family had been laid to rest over the years; beginning with Marie.  Decades passed before a second Cartwright, Hoss, was buried only too shortly was followed by Joe’s wife, Alice. Years later, an even shorter interval between saw Benjamin and Jamie buried, having passed within days of each other from a devastating outbreak of influenza.  And now, most recently…. the name on the pristine headstone, that they witnessed installed only minutes before, was too difficult for him to read or to even accept.

“I hope they’re able to rest in peace, knowing you’re here.” The woman softly spoke to the gray-headed gentleman, with hair nipping over his collar.  Standing next to them was a blonde-haired child of possibly ten.  “I’m sorry I never was able to meet them,” she spoke.

Even with the warmth of summer surrounding them, the man shivered and clinched his hands.  “There were times I wasn’t so sure I’d ever return here…home,” he truthfully acknowledged bowing his head.

Leaning into her husband, her arms, one wrapped behind his back while the other rubbed his upper arm nearest her, “But you did.”

Gently removing himself from her embrace, he picked up the child and set him to his hip, he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders before saying, “Let’s go back.”

Turning, the threesome returned to the waiting carriage, driven by a distant relative of Hop Sing; who was also buried there after passing from natural causes.

*****

That evening, husband and wife sat next to each other on the settee watching the flickering flames in the fireplace; their child long asleep in an upstairs bedroom.

Sighing after sipping the whiskey and setting the tumbler on the side table. Looking towards the ceiling, in an effort to prevent the tears welling in his eyes from falling, “Guess the joke was on me then.  Damn, if we’d only been home when his letter first arrived.”

“We came as soon as we could.”

“I lost so much time; just because of one week.  If it only arrived one week sooner, we would have still been home and could have arrived here before…”

“I’m sure he didn’t begrudge you.  From how you described him, I’m sure he understood,” she offered while he slowly moved his head from side to side.

Surreptitiously, she reached across to pick up the tumbler and took a sip of the whiskey.  With a slight giggle, she returned the glass to the small table.  “You should have seen your face when A.C. came running through the dining room last night, holding that envelope and shouting, ‘Who’s Yankee Granite Head?  He’s got a letter!”  She wondered how their young son had been able to read the handwriting scribbled on the envelope. 

“To say I was shocked, is an understatement. I never imagined my son yelling that phrase.”  A gentle ‘humph’ escaped, “Reminded me of years ago, when Joe broke an old cookie jar of Marie’s and found a letter she had written to Pa.”

“Sounds like a fond memory.  Maybe he remembered and thought to do the same for you.  It’s unfortunate that A.C. knocked over the cookie vase, but if he hadn’t, we’d have never known about the letter.  Have you read it yet, the letter Joe wrote you?” she asked. 

“Last night, after you put A.C. to bed. His handwriting was always difficult to decipher…  He said he was trying his best to beat this illness, but the cancer was ravaging his body.  He wrote of his longing to see me one last time.  He mentioned his relief at receiving my wire saying we had been away on an extended holiday when his letter arrived.  I guess our lack of response had him worried that something had happened to us.  He was grateful we were on our way.”  Taking another drink from the tumbler, “He also wrote of the box he’d hidden in my old tallboy. I was surprised he kept so many of the letters I had written early on in my travels as well as Pa’s journals from our travels west.”

“What else did he write?” she encouraged. Knowing how her husband could brood when he kept his emotions to himself; her life was always easier if she could get him to talk.  And she knew he was keeping something, close.  Shouldering into her husband, she gave him, ‘that look‘.

“Forgiveness.  Dreams.  Memories of brothers.  He wanted me to possibly use the journals and letters to write a book.  Said he was sure it would rival, as he wrote, ‘that guy named Gulliver’.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” she replied.  “My husband a published author.”

With quick breaths Adam struggled to speak, “His final parting was to….. ‘Remember me with smiles and laughter for that is how I will remember you’.” Wrapping his arms around his wife, he finally gave into his emotions, gasping breaths and quaking shoulders, “As the oldest, I wasn’t supposed to outlive my brothers.”

~The End

Author’s note:  The story was originally written to answer one of the July 2025 Pinecone Challenges, which had to be under 500 words.  I’ve expanded the story to include a few missing moments and descriptions, which now means it can be uploaded into the Library.  I’ll not apologize for any tears this story may cause.

And as BettyHT reminded us through her submission in the Forums, this short story also could answer a challenge Inca issued in 2014: “Death of a Cartwright“; I killed off all but one!