A large gray truck rests among the gone. The sun beats down on it, the rays reflecting through the still air. The chilly breeze moves the trees gently, and they cast shadows on the light green grass. The highway is full of cars, zooming past the one acre full of memories. Here lay memories, here lay dreams, here lay love, here lay souls.
An older man, walking with a smoothed cane, walks among the plastic vases full of fake flowers. They had deserved more than plastic attempts of gratitude. But looking at the world today, the old man wasn’t too surprised. He’d found that the people most deserving, didn’t get much.
He kept his head down, his flannel shirt moving against his old body in the breeze. It was a beautiful day, he knew his wife would love it. Ah, she had always loved the sun, the chill in the air that came, that made you feel alive like no other way.
The old man trudged on the soft earth, head down in silence for the rows of red, blue, and green flowers that marked the place of eternal rest for the gone. He could feel his brittle bones feel suddenly at rest, as if his old heart had finally accepted the difficulties that always had lay ahead.
He knew this path well, how often he had walked it with silence. When he reached the vase full of bright red roses, of the real kind, he smiled lightly. The old man lay down one more rose had had been carrying, gently returning it to the earth in love. She had always loved red roses the best. He remembered how pretty she had looked with them in her luxurious hair. He remembered her hazel eyes, always full of love. And her laugh… He sat down on the earth in front of the flower holder. Oh her laugh. He felt his eyes prick with tears, the tears of love. How he missed her. But he had came to accept it, in such a way that peace covered him. But he missed her. Nothing would have changed that.
”Our little granddaughter turned 3 yesterday, Annie. She reminds me so much of you, so much like our Susie. I have the most beautiful girls…” His smile went into a small sigh, vision blurring slightly. ”It’s a beautiful day, is it not. You always loved these kind of days. Remember, when, we used to go on those walks in the forest, behind our home? You’d always go barefoot, despite the weather. Your mother said you were crazy.”
The old man smiled silently, looking around, embracing the lively world. It never did stop living, did it? No matter what ever happened it seemed, the sun would always shine, the moon would always come back. Those miracles, we took little notice of because they had formed usual occurrences instead of the huge actions they were. People lived on normally, no matter how much one person was grieving. The old man turned back to his wife.
”Always did love it, though, you did. You said it made you one with God’s creation.” The fond memories flooded, as he gingerly pulled on the scar that held them. He caught his breath, suddenly finding the walk more than he could bare. He gave a small laugh. ”I’m gettin’ old, then. Everything has me up in arms, these lungs.”
He took of his glasses, rubbing them on his shirt. Pushing them on, he looked up at the sky.
”Yes. Today is surely beautiful.” He closed his eyes, taking in the warm sun. This life truly was good, he knew.
And the old man had his last final thoughts of his wife, and the love he had for his Father in heaven.
And when the sun danced on, his thoughts danced up in heaven with the people and God he loved.