Spookyness

The Visit

*Credit to Nefarious on thenightmarehunters.com

The breeze blew off and on in small gusts on the warm June day. The dust swirled dead oak leaves in occasional lonely whirlwind that died out only to start up again randomly as the gusting breeze pushed at the gravestones. 

John stood and watched the symphony of nature cleaning itself in a gentle manner with dust, leaves, and the occasional parachute-like dandelion seed swirling and landing in a crack or crevice. 

"Nice day." A soft voice called out.

John refocused on the here and now with a start. "Oh, hello, I didn't see you there. "

"Sorry for intruding, I saw you watching the wind. I like to do that as well."

"Technically, I'm watching the dust devils clean up the dust and leaves."

"And to help the seeds find a home. Yes, I know, me too..." stated the elderly gentleman. 

John looked him over up and down in a subtle and discreet manner. He noted the elegant, formal and classic cut of his suit. The crisp crease of his trousers was complimented by the shine of his black wingtip shoes.

"Nice suit."

"Thank you, young man." The gentleman nodded. "I believe I might have seen you here previously. Forgive my breach of decorum. I simply noticed you, too, like to watch the wind dancing to the music of nature. I thought I might speak with you."

John smiled and said, "...Interesting choice of words. I was literally just thinking that it reminded me of a symphony."

"I always thought more of a jazz band, or maybe swing music," stated the gentleman. 

John stood quietly for a moment, then said, "I find it more peaceful than energizing. But yes, overall, I agree."

"June is a month of rebirth and growth. I find energy in the transition from spring season to summer." The elderly man stated with a quiet confidence that comes with age.

"Feels about right to me, as well. Nice thought."

"I have seen you here quite a few times. I was hoping you would be willing to talk." The well dressed stately man paused and waited to see if John reached out to continue the conversation. 

"I..." he paused. After a several moments of watching nature's early summer dance, John spoke. "Well, normally I do prefer to have solitude. But, yes, you seem to understand."

"More than you could know. I was hesitant to intrude upon your grief. But I could almost feel your pain." 

"Cemeteries are calming to me." John said softly, almost too soft to be heard. "My father is buried here."

"I know. I sensed your melancholy. I thought you might be receptive..."

"What do you mean, how could you-" John felt a weird chill run down the back of his neck.

"Please don't be alarmed. But, listen. I only have a few moments, now."

John regarded the old gentleman for a long, silent pause. He eventually shrugged a bit and said: "Okay. Go ahead. "

"Your father wanted me to tell you. Tell you that he's sorry. He's sorry and wants you to know. Wants you to know that he's proud of you. That he loves you and wishes he would have swallowed his pride and apologized." The stately gentleman paused and waited.

John stood shocked, frozen, almost rooted to the ground. "How- what-- that's not funny. Not funny at all. How dare-"

"Your father told me that he wishes he had returned your call. Your phone call from Phoenix, on the business trip, something about a business deal involving medical equipment sales. Your last words to him were, 'I miss you, I love you'. He got your message and he meant to call you back. Now it's too late. He just wants you to know. He wants you to know that he appreciated your last words. "

John was still.

Time seemed to stop. The wind seemed to still. The leaves did not stir and the trees did not rustle. Not a sound could be heard as the gentleman finished.

"You said, 'Happy Father's Day. I'm sorry.'..." He continued, "...he meant to call you. He's truly sorry. And now he can move on. And so can you."

John paused, turned, and the gentleman was gone. 

He suddenly couldn't remember what the old gentleman had looked like, and after a moment, John couldn't even remember that he'd had a visitor. It was as if he'd never been there.

Yet deep inside, he felt changed. He was strangely at peace, though he couldn't remember why. John was content. He was left with a thought, a seed had been planted in the back of his mind, a thought about his father. He felt like he could smile - a true, genuine smile - for the first time since his old man's death.