A dreary winter's day.
Bleak.
Humid.
Cold.
Grey.
Words that described it perfectly.
A man pulled up on the gravel path of a cemetery in a black Dodge Charger. He turned off the ignition and stepped out of the vehicle, making sure to grab the bundle of fresh red roses that lay strewn across the leather of the passenger's seat. He locked the car and shoved the keys into the deep pocket of his black overcoat. There was a slight fog around the man's feet as he drew ever nearer to the gates of the final resting place of so many people, and the gravel crunched beneath his expensive, black leather shoes.
Opening the gates with a fair amount of hesitation in his actions, he made his way into the cemetery. He walked a unique path well known to him, as most likely everyone else that had ever lost a friend or loved one had one, to a particular headstone in this plot of land reserved only for the dead.
Looking out as he walked, a flash of brilliant purple caught his eye amongst the bleak. It appeared as though another living, breathing human was here to mourn the loss of a loved one. Not wanting to be noticed, the man pulled the fedora on his head down lower to cover his strikingly blue eyes and chiseled, yet aging features. The only form of color he had on him was the beautiful red roses in his black gloved right hand.
He walked he path to the farthest corner of the cemetery away from the rusted gates. The path rounded under an enormous oak tree, it's branches bare save only a couple dozen dead or dying leaves. The rest littered the ground and graves that happened to be under it. Sighing, the man crouched down in front of a headstone that was smaller than most, and brushed off the dead leaves that the dying oak tree had deposited onto it.
"I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit you sooner." He muttered to the faded rock as he stood back up, brushing vainly at the moisture that had soaked into the fabric of his grey slacks from the patchy, dew soaked grass. "Work's been hectic, but it's your birthday, so I decided to drop by and say hello..." He sniffled, and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his heavy coat.
"I miss you princess." He choked out, trying to fend off the hot tears that pricked at the edges of his aging eyes and threatened to spill down his face. He smiled slightly, remembering the times when the one buried would run into his arms when he would cry and wipe away the tears for him. In those days, it felt like his life was complete, like nothing could ever take his happiness away from him...
But it had been.
To him, the world stopped the moment she died all those years ago. She was only ten at the time. Only ten! She still had so much life left in her. So much joy and hope. So much laughter and love. So many dreams that were never fulfilled. All of that was stole away from her by a car and a teenager who had had too much to drink that night.
A fresh monsoon of tears swept over him and he tried with shaky hands to wipe them from his face, but to no avail.
A tug on the hem of his coat forced him to look down. The splash of violet he had seen earlier amidst the grey was staring back up at him in the form of a little girl wearing a long purple coat that went down to her white stockinged knees. Her dark eyes held in them a sort of sad curiosity that only a child could possibly possess, and her hair fell around her thin face in long blonde ringlets.
The man wiped his eyes successfully this time and turned to the little girl who could only have been around seven or so years old. "What do you want?" He asked in a colder tone of voice than he should have. "Where's your mother?"
Without a word, the little girl pointed to the gravestone he had seen her at earlier. His attitude softened and he kneeled down to her level. "Where's your father?" Again wordless, she moved her finger to the gate outside surrounding the cemetery. The man looked and saw another man in an expensive looking business suit busily yelling at people over the phone, not paying any attention to his daughter.
The girl tugged on the man's coat again to get his attention, and then pointed down at the headstone in front of the pair. The man smiled sadly. "That's my daughter. She died many years ago..." He trailed off, remembering the beautiful memories he had had with her while he was still a young man. How they would laugh and play together. How he would hold her late at night when she was too scared to sleep on her own... Oh dear lord, he missed her so much! Hs wife had left them when his daughter was only a baby, and she had been his entire life ever since.
Once more, the little girl tugged on his jacket, pulling him back to the bleak and cold reality he lived in. He turned his head down to her and she reached up a small hand, wiping away the tears that soaked the long neglected crows feet around his eyes. "Don't cry." She told him in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "She wouldn't like you crying." With that, she turned and began walking down the gravel pathway, her feet causing the dead leaves of the dying oak to crunch satisfyingly under her small weight.
The man looked after her retreating form until only the purple of her coat was visible in the heavy growing fog, then, it disappeared all together.
The man looked back down at his daughter's grave and smiled a little bit. "I get it." He muttered as he set he red roses down on top of the headstone. "I understand now." He began to walk back to his car, no longer caring that the knees of his pants were soaked clean through, or that the cold had begun to permeate his heavy coat.
He reached the rusted gates and looked around. No splashes of color met his gaze, but he didn't mind. He looked over his shoulder to the furthest corner of the cometary away from the gates, the one underneath the oak tree.
He smiled.
"Sleep well, princess."
