I don’t know why I’m drawn to your grave. I stumbled upon it by accident, you are tucked away in a far off corner of the cemetery. There hasn’t been much upkeep on your final resting place, and the grass is starting to reclaim the stone pillar that has your name and death date carved into it. If your life was anything like your tombstone it was a wearisome and lonely one.
My sister told me, “don’t waste your time on the dead today, they’ll be dead tomorrow.” But I still find myself at the foot of your grave nearly every day. I placed a small yellow flower on the top of your tombstone, the side that hadn’t been covered in grass yet.
The little yellow flower seemed to glow against the dark. I sat down at the base of your grave and leaned up against the cool touch of stone. I talked to you about my day, and asked you about your past. I knew you wouldn’t answer but I figured someone should at least ask.
I promise you I’ll be back tomorrow and the next day and the next. Even if you never answer a single question I will be there to ask them. Maybe I am wasting my time on the dead, but I’m drawn here to you just the same. Until tomorrow my friend, rest easy.