Inheritance of Shadows

The sun had risen higher in the sky by the time the Betancourt family and their neighbors returned from the cemetery. Custom dictated that the mourners would share a meal at the family home—a final act of homage to Angela Betancourt, and a moment for those who knew her to console one another, sharing stories and memories. Javier knew the tradition well; he had watched his mother host similar gatherings for other families, and she’d taught him that this was a time for the community to rally around those left behind.

As they reached the courtyard, the sounds of clinking dishes and lively conversation greeted them. Javier noticed that several aunts and cousins who hadn’t attended the burial had remained behind to prepare the meal. Even in her absence, his mother’s influence was everywhere, guiding her family to fulfill their roles as she would have wanted. For Angela, it wasn’t just about custom; it was a matter of honor.

Javier’s eyes roamed over the courtyard, taking in the faces of old family friends, distant relatives, and villagers who had come to pay their respects. The crowd was a mixture of those who had known his mother well and others who simply wished to acknowledge the loss of a respected community figure. Moving quietly among them, Javier offered nods and brief words of thanks, listening as people shared their memories of his mother. It seemed every corner of the courtyard held fragments of Angela’s life, and he felt the weight of her legacy pressing down on him.

But as he drifted among the mourners, a strange realization struck him. Despite the gathered crowd, he hadn’t once glimpsed his sister, Lucia, or her family. At first, he thought he’d overlooked her in the flurry of faces, but as the meal began and people settled into small groups, her absence became glaringly obvious. Whispers echoed through the courtyard—murmurs of Lucia’s unexpected absence had already begun circulating among the guests.

Javier felt a surge of frustration rise within him. After the show she’d put on at the wake, standing with her husband and children adorned in expensive jewelry, how could she fail to attend their mother’s burial? This was an unforgivable slight, one that no amount of wealth or jewelry could excuse. Yet Javier forced himself to push aside the resentment that simmered beneath his grief. This was a day meant to honor Angela, not to dwell on his sister’s choices. If Lucia didn’t feel the weight of her absence, then it was her shame to bear, not his.

The guests began settling into their meal, with platters of food passed around the tables and dishes filling every surface. Platters of tamales, mole, and stewed meats gave off fragrant aromas, mingling with the sounds of quiet conversation. It was a modest meal, reflecting the Betancourt family’s values—simple, sincere, and meant to be shared among all who cared for Angela. Javier’s gaze lingered on the familiar dishes, each one a reminder of his mother’s care. Even though she was gone, her presence was tangible in the food her relatives had prepared, each dish bearing her touch.

Javier took his seat beside his aunt Sofia, who had remained close to him since the burial. She gave him a small, understanding smile, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in his grief. As they ate, friends and family shared stories, their words a patchwork of memories that painted a picture of Angela Betancourt’s life—her strength, kindness, and resilience. The stories weren’t grand or dramatic, but they revealed the quiet power she had wielded in her community, binding people together and offering a steadying hand whenever it was needed.

As the meal drew to a close, the visitors slowly began to leave, offering Javier their condolences as they departed. His aunts and uncles remained behind, helping to clear away dishes and tidy up the courtyard. Some of his cousins offered to wash the remaining dishes and sweep the courtyard, their hands busy as they glanced his way with quiet concern.

“You’ve been up all night, Javier,” his cousin Mariana said gently, touching his arm. “You need rest.”

Javier gave a half-hearted protest, insisting he was fine, but Mariana’s insistence was unwavering. “We can take care of things here. Go get some sleep. It’s what your mother would have wanted.”

Her words struck a chord, and Javier felt his resistance waver. Though he hadn’t realized it until now, exhaustion weighed heavily on him, the grief and tension of the past days pulling at him like an anchor. With a resigned nod, he allowed Mariana and the others to usher him toward the house. As he passed through the courtyard, he cast one last look at the familiar faces, grateful for their help and comfort. It was a small relief to know that his family still surrounded him, even as they each faced their own sorrow.

Inside, Javier made his way up the staircase, each step feeling heavier than the last. His body was beginning to register the toll of the past days, the restless nights and the constant turmoil of emotions he had pushed aside. Entering his room, he was struck by a sense of solace; it was as though the walls themselves were offering him a place to finally lay down his burdens.

As he crossed the room and lay down on his bed, he felt the comforting weight of his childhood memories settle around him. The familiar scent of the wooden furniture, the distant hum of voices from the courtyard below—all of it wrapped him in a sense of security that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Javier closed his eyes, and within moments, the exhaustion that had been quietly building over the days finally overtook him.

The last thoughts that drifted through his mind were a mixture of anger toward Lucia and sorrow for his mother. But as sleep claimed him, he felt a hint of peace begin to settle in, like the first faint light of dawn breaking through a long, dark night.