I folded the note in my pocket.
Candles lined all the paths and graves for as far as the eye could see. Towering arches adorned elaborately with catholic symbols stood at the head of graves, sarcophagi, and mausoleums alike. Brightly colored flags and scattered bouquets laid neatly on the gravestone as I headed forth, passing by rows of burial sites.
It was late spring, and the air felt electric and alive, like before a thunderstorm, bristling with anticipation.
A storm was coming, I could feel it in my bones.
I gripped the letter in my pockets, my other hand holding a bouquet of deep-red chrysanthemums in my other hand. Paths crisscrossed, a network of spiraling roads that thrummed with energy, each one blanketed by an assortment of petals and leaves.
Finally, I stopped, tears gently falling from my cheeks as I sat down at the tombstone, head bowed in solace. The last time I was here was at Bernardo's funeral where I watched his coffin be lowered into the earth. So much has changed, the upheaved soil now sprouted life, and flower petals adored his final resting place. Just like when he was alive, it radiated with energy, bringing back memories of the time they spent together.
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The last time was to keep his memory preserved.
This time was my goodbye.
Carefully leaning forward, I laid the bouquet right under his plaque, surrounding it with light pink petals that lay scattered around me. I slipped my jacket off, carefully placing it on the lunette.
It stung to leave behind the last possession of him, but I knew that in time it would heal as all things were done.
Fishing the letter and picture out of my pocket, I slipped the letter underneath the bouquet so that the wind couldn’t blow it away. The photo was a picture of our family at the picnic, the crazy war cannon right next to us as we smiled at the camera.
We were happy then and I felt like he needed to see that. I knew that just as I had blamed myself for his death, Bernado felt guilt over leaving us behind.
With every item I left on his stone, a pang of guilt riddled my body while simultaneously a weight was lifted from my shoulder.
Stepping up, I whispered my last goodbye, tightly pulling my arms against my chest as a light breeze blew through me. Turning away, I headed to Kat's black SUV, knowing that in the end, everything would be okay.
It's funny though.
Sometimes saying goodbye is like the final chapter, but other times it's just a way of remembering everything.