Soulmates - The Last Line

The Soulmate part 1

Notes:

TW: talks about funerals and death in general.

Will they meet or was this all in vain?

Happy reading!

The dry leaves were crunching underneath her feet with every step she took. Some of them were slippery and covered in muddy water. The rest had fallen on top of them to cover the mess. Why were there so many fallen leaves at the beginning of summer? Maybe they had fallen because it was too hot? The temperature was usually going low at night, so the park was naturally very calm around this time. What time was it? Probably around 8, or 9 pm? The wind was coming in short waves, first caressing the leaves, then pushing them around forcibly and leaving them all disheveled. Her fingers had gotten cold for some reason. Could have been the night, the anxiety, or the location, but something was feeling off. People normally don't visit graveyards at night. What was she doing there? The enormous trees looked even scarier like this covered in shadows and unspoken darkness. Their branches were desperately reaching towards each other all over the path she was walking on. The lower ones were bare and untouched. Everything on top of that was covered in leaves. The night sky was not fully visible. The stars were usually comforting, but she couldn't see them tonight. Her feet were starting to hurt. How long has she walked for? She stopped for a moment, closed her eyes, and inhaled. The air smelled like rain, wet rocks, and old walnuts. She was hoping she'd be back home before the storm. There was a clearing a bit ahead. Picking up speed again, she started walking in that direction. The meadow was small, probably around 20 steps in diameter, surrounded by trees. In the middle of it were two old tombstones. Was it too late to turn back and leave? No. She couldn't leave. This is what she was here for... right? She got closer and noticed the inscriptions on them were not old. It was just the plants that covered them that made me look forgotten. The stone underneath was polished and still untouched by time.

She squeezed the papers in her hand that she forgot she was holding. Unclenching her fist she read the printed black ink text that said

IOOF Cemetery Memorials, Crescent City, Oregon, USA

The two graves belonged to an Ethan Anders and a Max Bennett. American soldiers. Born 1983 and 1985. Both died fairly young in 2005. According to the research, they got killed during a mission in Iraq - Operation Sayeed. Part of a 6 member team who got ambushed. 5 killed, one reported missing. Their remains were transported to their home country and they both were given proper burial with military honors. And for what? ... They were kids.

She got closer to one of the graves and started removing the plants that had wrapped their roots around one of the stones. Isn't it insane how at one point you're a person, you have a favorite color, a favorite pair of shoes, you have a favorite sweater, you have a favorite song, a comfort dish that you'd always eat again no matter how full you are, a favorite movie that you can watch 10000 times and not get tired, a favorite person that you'd always want to hold and laugh with, a family, friends to share memories with, birthday parties, graduations, weddings, a person to love, a person to wanna be around until you're old and wrinkled, and then nothing - you get buried in the ground or burned and put in a box, and suddenly there's nothing left of you. Your family slowly disposes of your stuff because they bring too many memories and they'd prefer to not remember you so they don't suffer, and ... your favorite color doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter how thin or thick you were. It doesn't matter if you were good to people or not. You're always forgotten, slowly at first, then completely, all at once. It's so crazy to think how many people walked the same grass, drank the same water, and kissed under the same stars, and then one day just stopped walking, and drinking and looking at the stars. Stardust. That's what we're made of, and that's what we'd become.