Prolouge
It was unseasonably warm on that April afternoon. The sun was shining and the temperature was nearly 70 degrees already. Off in a distance bird sang a cheerful song. It was all very ironic, since the scene was conveying the exact opposite emotions that he was feeling inside.
A familiar feeling of pain tugged at his heart, as he stood focused on the date on the tombstone. April 18, 2005 it read. Had it really been a full year? In some ways he didn’t think that was possible, but in other ways it felt like it had been the longest year of his life.
The first water droplet left his eye and traveled down his cheek. A few more quietly followed. He didn’t say anything, he never did. Instead he left a small bouquet of wild flowers by the marker. He stood for a moment longer closing his eyes, and listening to the wind pick up a bit through the trees. Then he turned and walked away. It never got any easier.
