The 5th Horseman

Chapter 41

COLMA, CALIFORNIA, IS CALLED the City of the Dead; located five miles south of San Francisco, it’s our city’s graveyard. With more than a million people buried in its neatly manicured cemeteries, it’s the only place in America where the dead outnumber the living, upward of twelve to one.

My mom was here at Cypress Lawn Cemetery, and now Yuki’s mom would be here, too.

That Saturday, about seventy of us were grouped under a tent at Keiko’s graveside, a breeze riffling the white canvas panels, twisting the thin plume of smoke coming from the incense pot next to the portrait of Yuki’s parents, Bruno and Keiko Castellano.

Yuki stood with her arm around a small Japanese man in a dusty black suit. This was Keiko’s twin brother, Jack. He choked out a few words in halting, broken English: “My sister was precious woman. Thank you for . . . bringing honor to my family.”

Yuki hugged her uncle. A smile crossed her tired face as she began to speak about her mother.

“My mom liked to say that when she came to San Francisco she picked out the important landmarks right away. The Golden Gate Bridge, Saks, I. Magnin, Gump’s, and Nordstrom. Not necessarily in that order.”

Warm laughter rose up as Yuki brought images of Keiko to life.

“I used to go shopping with her after school and race around the clothing racks. She would say, ‘Yuki-eh, you must learn to be a lady.’

“I don’t think I ever quite learned to do that.” Yuki laughed. “I liked my music loud. My skirts short — I know, Mommy, even this one is too short! She wanted me to marry a lawyer — instead I became one.

“My life isn’t what she dreamed for me, but she always gave me her love, her support . . . her everything.

“We were a team, Mom and me. Best friends, always. As I stand here with my uncle, I cannot imagine my world without her. Mommy, I will love you and miss you forever.”

Yuki lowered her head, her lips trembling. Then she and her uncle turned so that they faced Keiko’s coffin.

Pressing a bracelet of stone beads between her palms, Yuki held her hands in front of her face. She and her uncle Jack chanted a Japanese prayer that swelled as the voices of Keiko’s friends and family joined in.

Then Yuki bowed to her mother’s coffin.

I gripped Claire’s hand with my right hand, Cindy’s hand with my left, feeling my own grief well up in me as tears rolled down Yuki’s face.

“This is just the saddest damn day,” Claire said.