25 Letters [h.s]

Letter 8

The last time I was at Harry's grave was during the funeral. I'd always drive half way, and then turn around. I was never fully ready to see a stone replace Harry.

This time though, this time I knew I wouldn't make a U turn and drive back home the long way. I knew where I was going.

Harry had been buried in a graveyard with other lifeless stones marking their passing. I never really knew how to feel about this, I've always thought he'd like his ashes scattered in the pacific ocean, to sink to the bottom of the ocean, the most unknown place on this earth and in outer space. Or maybe out in the woods, letting vines and green moss spread on him tombstone, allowing him to be apart of something bigger, nature.

But he ended up in another haunted graveyard for children to hold their breaths when they walk by or another place for them to cause havoc every October 31st.

On the way there, I wanted to traffic to last forever. I wished for the red lights to never flicker into green, and I stopped for a good two minutes every stop sign. It was only mid afternoon but this was easily the most I've been somewhere other than for my house since Harry died.

I pulled into the parking lot, I must of been sitting their for an hour before I could convince myself to walk out the car door. I kept telling myself I was ready for this, that I was strong enough. I told myself not to cry, that Harry would never want to see me this way. The only way I could even get out of my vehicle without falling to the ground was to tell myself that I was doing this for Harry, he made me strong.

The place was vacant, nobody came during this time. The graveyard was normally buzzing in the first hours of daylight, leaving the rest of the day for a hobby better than mourning over the perished.

I popped the trunk open and carried my guitar case out. If I did believe in ghosts or afterlife, if I did believe that Harry would be sitting next to me in spirit while I conversed a one sided conversation, I'd want him to hear music. He deserved that much.

I didn't need a map to tell me where Harry lay, deceased. I could never forget where he was, cold and alone, it was what my nightmares seized off of. He lived in a forever Halloween, dressing up as himself daily. I let my feet carry me to the middle of the ground, sitting down face-to-face of Harry's tombstone.

This shouldn't be so hard, I shouldn't feel like crying just by being here. I tried so hard to smile, I hoped he could see it. I took a deep breath of recycled air in, letting the unknown fill my lungs. I tilted my head back, whispering, "don't cry, don't cry" like it could even make a difference.

I tried to pry my mind off of how morbid this all was, how eerie I felt and focused on Harry's bright green eyes that could never dull in my memory.

"Hi Harry, I've been missing you. A lot actually, I miss you a lot. If it means anything, I hope you found what you were looking for now that you're gone. You deserve eternal light, I don't know why you brought yourself the opposite, but who am I to judge?" I waited for his deep chuckles that could warm my insides better than hot coffee. They, more than obviously, didn't come, so I laughed for him.

"You sly motherfucker," I laughed again, "leaving me 25 letters? You're such a Romeo, I like it though. It's cute, I live off of those. I read them everyday with a dose of two anti-depressants and a cup of water, pretty cool, huh?" I smiled, hoping dead Harry could sense my sarcasm.

Pulling my legs in and sitting criss-cross apple sauce, I read Harry's epitaph, even though the words were just as easily engraved in my mind as it is on a stone that's trying so hard to sum up Harry Styles in a few sentences.

"He is living in darkness, but he gave us all sunshine for an eternity. His kindness shall never disintegrate. RIP Harry Styles."

It was like the words took my glass heart and threw it down to the streets, letting every piece shatter twice. I told myself not to cry one last time before pulling out my guitar.