I shiver as I a trudge along a dirt road; my jacket never seeming to be enough against the wind. The sun provides ample light through the bare tree branches caused by the nearing Winter. I walk slowly, trying to prolong the inevitable pain that lies at the end of this seldom trodden path.
Memories spring into my head; many involve you. The day we went to the amusement park for the first time, you feigning terror as we near the zenith of a roller coaster. Memories of us imitating coughs and sniffles in order to get out of school. Memories of sneaking out of the house to go on late night ice cream runs or drive around the city.
It's has been months since I walked this path. Months since I saw the nearing obelisk in a forest clearing. Months since I've sat on the bench that marked your favourite place in the whole world, where you could escape from the world to enjoy the chorus of birds. Months since I've felt the stinging tears from the pain, the ever-present pain the created an emptiness inside of me unlike anything else in the world.
I now stand in front of the marble obelisk, the words upon it merge into a jumble of random markings as the tears pool in my eyes. "I don't know how to begin," I say, the words feel heavy in my throat, trying to pull my composure down with it. After debating in silence for some time, I begin to speak.
" I have so many questions to ask, but I don't know if you're even there. Is there even an afterlife?" I begin as I stare at the obelisk, the words slowly begin to return to their defined shape, though they're still illegible. "I wish I had one more day. I wish I visited more often. I wish I could've been there for you." I pause to collect my thoughts, "I finally got my Doctorate, I guess you would want to know that. I now work at that hospital..." I trail off, my voice begins to shake. "I remember when we first entered college, how you always came to my dorm at night, and we would laugh and eat Ramen and do our reports. It was nice going to the same college, you always said you liked it too, that it took away some of the fears you had. I remember saying that I wouldn't always be there for you, that you would have to handle some things alone sometimes. I never thought...that the one time I wouldn't be there...would be the wrong time." My eyes sting with the icy cold of tears, I rest on the bench whilst staring at the marble obelisk; still standing tall, words still blurred.
It takes me a while to calm down and slow my breathing. I walk back, still having a few words to say. "I'm sorry for everything. All those times I was mean, or ignorant, or selfish. I'm sorry for not coming here often. I'm sorry for...everything." I look upon the scrambled words for the last time, they finally take shape for me at last. "I should have brought you flowers, I know you would've have never wanted roses. You always said they were too beautiful to be cut. I know you would've wanted lavender, you always liked that candle, you always liked purple." Suddenly, I feel something snap inside me, memories I had shut away flooded my brain. Instantly I felt an emotion that I could not pinpoint; it gnawed at my very existence, threatening to unravel everything I was. "I-I remember that morning. How we sat eating our cereal and planning our day. I had just returned from Spring break and we were going to go to the mall together. It was our birthday. It was supposed to be special. We went to your favourite restaurant. We went to my favourite ice cream parlour. It was great. Our friends took us out for drinks. You knew I didn't want to drink because I had class in the morning...You didn't." I finally realised what the mystery emotion was. Guilt. I immediately break down into a sobbing mess, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you there. I shouldn't have left you to be the person with the least shots in them. I shouldn't have left you there to..." I stop, I feel as though she knew the rest. Tears streak down my face. "I'm sorry Annabelle, I'm so sorry..."
I walk away from the marble obelisk. Even as it grows green from moss and crumbles from old age, the engraving still remains legible. Accented by the lavender that remains alive by tears alone. I return every month to feed the lavender my sorrow. I always leave feeling dry, feeling the guilt that gnaws at my existence. I begin to come less often, until I stop coming all together. Many years pass before I visit the obelisk one final time, but it is not to feed the lavender, it is to be buried among it.
