I crouched low and planted my knees on the naked earth beneath me. Hot tears trailed down my cheeks as I removed the wilted–almost dried–roses off the tombstone and replaced it with fresh ones. Red roses, not white, she hated white roses.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came. Only a harsh whimper that made me loose my guard. My fists landed on the tombstone shakily, afraid that I might crack it if I pound on it.
A hand landed on my shoulder giving it what was supposed to be a cormfortable squeeze. But it was anything but comforting.
I lost her.
"It's okay man. It's okay." Oliver's voice choked out. He misses her too. We all do.
I lifted my eyes to the spot where her name was engraved. I skimmed my fingers over the big, elegantly curved 'A' that started with her name before grazing the rest of it.
"It should have been me." I sobbed, clutching my chest trough my worksuit. "She should have been selfish for once in her life and let me die instead. She should have been so fucking selfish. But now she's gone."
Maybe not all in life was laughter and sunshine. Definitely there had to be thick thundering clouds and lots of moaning and mourning.
She gave up her life to keep our happiness. She gave up her life so we could remember her.
Love.
What an odd love this is.