After my spouse died away a year ago, I visit his cemetery on the 15th of every month, surrounded by memories and silence. Someone always arrived before me with beautiful flowers. Who might it be?
I froze in tears when I learned. They think grief evolves but never disappears. After 35 years of marriage, I stood in our kitchen alone, stunned by Danny’s morning shuffle’s absence.
One year after the accident, the discomfort of waking up without him remains. “Mom? Are you ready?” Alice jingled her vehicle keys in the entryway.
My kid has her father’s warm brown eyes with gold specks in the proper light. I forced a grin, “Just grabbing my sweater, dear.”
It was our anniversary and my monthly cemetery visit on the 15th. Alice had been with me for months, apprehensive about my solo journey.
“I can wait in the car if you want some time,” she said as we entered the iron gates. Dear, that would be lovely. Not long.”
Danny’s scheme was well-known.
I halted short as I neared. A carefully organized arrangement of white roses adorned his headstone. I bent to stroke their smooth petals and mumbled, “That’s strange.”
“What?” Alice yelled behind me.
“Someone left flowers again.”
“Maybe one of Dad’s old work friends?”
Shaking my head. “Flowers are always fresh.”
Does it annoy you? Looking at the roses, I felt curiously soothed.
“No. It’s just… I wonder who remembers him so well.”
“Maybe next time we’ll find out,” Alice squeezed my shoulder. When we returned to the car, I felt Danny watching us, smiling that crooked smile I missed so much.
I answered, “Whoever they are, they must have loved him too.”
***
Spring became into summer, and each visit brought new flowers to Danny’s grave. June daisies. July sunflowers… fresh, always Fridays before Sunday visits.
Some hot August morning, I decided to visit the cemetery early. I might capture my strange flower-bearer. Since Alice couldn’t come, I traveled alone.
The cemetery was silent. Groundskeepers cleared around a memorial. I recognized the elderly man with aged hands who usually nodded graciously when we met.
I yelled, “Excuse me,” approaching him. “I wonder if you know something.”
He paused and turned, wiping perspiration from his brow. “Morning, madam.”
Someone constantly leaves flowers at my husband’s grave.
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