Ricky stood outside the church as the hands of old relatives caressed his own.

"I’m so sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man.”

“He’ll be watching over you, son.”

“You have a guardian angel now.”

All these people were quick to give him assurances. Most of them, he didn’t even know. Ricky nodded, forced a smile, and said “Thank you” a hundred fucking times.

When the Church of St Anthony had cleared out, Ricky felt like he could finally loosen his tie and take a breath. He sat on the step and looked out at the countryside. There was a fair amount of guilt weighing him down, and he was having a hard time deciphering exactly what the cause was. Was it because he hadn’t seen his old man in a couple of years before he was killed? Or was it that he didn’t give a shit?

His mother, Rosie, and her newfound lover, Angie, walked out of the church and didn’t waste a second before lighting their cigarettes.

“You coming home?” Rosie asked,

“In a bit. I think I’m just going to hang out for a while.” “

Suit yourself,” Angie added. “Make sure to visit your sister in the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll go after.”

“Alright, kiddo.”

After the cars pulled out and the dust from the parking lot settled, Ricky went around back to the tiny graveyard to have one last chat with the old man.

The family was broke. So, instead of a headstone, Earl Walker had a small wooden cross that was no higher than Ricky’s shins when he stood in front of it.

Earl’s ashes were placed between his father and his mother, who had large stones with etchings describing them as lovable, courageous, and proud. These stones had been paid for by their insurance, which Ricky’s family had none.

“Hey, dad. How’s it going?” Ricky asked, and looked around the graveyard to make sure that no one was watching him talk to a wooden cross. He felt stupid. But he also felt it was necessary. If he didn’t do it, it would gnaw at his brain like a mental rat. Slowly driving him crazy.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like you can hear me. But here I am anyway. I just wanted to say that you know, you really fucked us up. Jenny is in the hospital. She swallowed like a pound of sleeping pills. Mom has some kind of thing going on with Angie from work, and I’m just here, feeling numb to it all, but feeling scared that when it wears off, I’m going to go crazy, ya know?”

Ricky paused before realizing that he was waiting for an answer. Then he laughed at himself and sat down on the dewy grass.

“But I’m not going to make you a martyr dad. I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of saying you left us, and you broke my heart, or anything like that. I have no delusions about what you were. You were a drunk. A gambler, a whore, who put those three things in front of his family. You weren’t a hero, and I won’t cry for you. But I will forgive you because you are what you are, despite wanting to think otherwise. Some people spend their whole lives trying to find the version of themselves that they think exists somewhere, only to realize that they were chasing shadows. If you taught me anything, dad, it’s just to be who you are, even if that’s a monster.

Ricky pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and carefully unfolded it.

“Someday I’ll buy you a stone, dad. But for now, all I have is a piece of paper. Jenny wrote a small poem for you from the hospital and told me to give it to you cause she couldn’t be here today. Anyway, here it is. Here you lay, ashes under stone. Never a king, never a throne. A man who has died like the rest all alone, but perhaps several hearts were broken that day, including my own.”

Ricky felt his eyes beginning to water and knew that it was time to go. He placed the paper under the wreaths of flowers. He kissed his fingers and placed them on top of the tiny wooden cross.

“See you next time, old man.”

The song stabbed my ears. But I could not bring my hand to change the radio. The world slowly swished around me as I pulled into the driveway.

Stepping out of the car, I dragged myself to the tomb. I felt like a limp rag doll as I stood there.

"Via my love," I mumbled. "I miss you more than you will ever know. You left us and, you broke my heart. But I carry you in that broken heart anyways." Once my lament left my voice I felt my eyes sting from tears.

"That was beautiful," an unknown voice whispered. I turned my head to see Jude's face.

"How did you known I was here?"

"I didn't. I just got here, but I should have guessed," she replied. Jude squatted down next to me and patted my shoulder. Tears streamed down my face. Jude's soft voice whispered words of comfort but I could feel her breaking beside me.

Without thought nor reason, I hummed the tune to the mournful song. Our song. It's words and melody seemed to carry her spirit. Eventually Jude joined in with me until the song finished. The moment was ours and time had slowed. I could feel the cracks in my hearts healing and the scars of grief fading.

My heart was broken and the pain would be there. But I wouldn't deal with it on my own.

Perhaps several hearts were broken that day, including my own. Family and friends. People who would rejoice in seeing her again and crumble when they realize they wouldn't.

We wouldn't be alone. We'd have each other. Her spirit would be there as well. In the things that reminded us of her.

Photos, texts and toys.

Mournful radio songs.

When I found them again I punched them in the jaw.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, no tears threatening, that had ended a long time ago.

They looked at me startled. "I... wha... sorry?"

"You left me," I screamed. "You refused to even say goodbye."

"I-"

"You left us, and you broke my heart while you were at it." I continued. "You didn't even care to say f*cking goodbye. You just disappeared. We thought you died. Do you know what that did us? We lost people and we thought we lost you. Do you have anything to say to defend yourself? To defend the shitty thing you did?"

"Perhaps several hearts were broken that day," They said calmly, "Including my own."

"Wh-"

"And maybe I didn't have a choice," They said, looking me dead in the eye. "And maybe you would be better off thinking I was dead."

Then they walked away.

What do you say when someone dies?

When the supermarket flowers aren’t enough.

And the food I bring begins to grow old,

Placed on a table, buried by piles of stuff.

I could buy a million roses,

But in a week, they would have died.

They might crumble in your hand,

and they won’t fill the void inside.

I know that the calendar won’t change months,

And the clock will freeze in time,

And the bells will softly taunt you,

when they begin to chime.

So I stand upon your doorstep,

But my hands refuse to knock.

I usually know exactly what to say,

But now, I’m afraid to talk.

I look to the heavens as if they’ll answer,

Today, the sky is more gray than blue,

And I whisper to whoever is listening,

“He cries every time he thinks of you.”

I wish we could fill your hollow bones,

With food, flowers and some dessert.

But you already seem too heavy,

In your eyes, I see all of your hurt.

I guess this is part of life,

I’ll be honest, we don’t know what to do

So I’ll just silently stand here by your side,

I’ll always be waiting here for you.

I’ve always said life moves fast, but,

Buying these roses today was never planned.

And now I’m standing at your door,

Staring at the supermarket flowers in my hand.

Those things I hear.

those things I have seen,

saddened my heart,

trying to bring Christmas cheer.

To witness adults,

their children, too,

all on my list,

their names I scratch off,

for a Christmas they will miss.

Needless pain, horrible death.

children shot, adults die from meth,

yet soon my sleigh will ride through the air,

shouting to all Merry Christmas or is that but a dare?

From the Sub-Office Station 173

North Pole

Subject: Concern

The elves have a concern,

Santa's thoughts in turn,

like our own does burn

deeply in our minds and fear,

Christmas may end after this year.

He hasn't been his jovial self,

and we elves fear for his health.

It is an arduous task he does each year,

spreading all the joy and cheer,

but we worry he has lost the way to enjoy

bringing smiles to all the little girls and boys.

We pray, we hope, he survives his pain,

that he may continue bringing children happiness,

over and over again.

A lonely cry above a silent bush, a yelp above the trees. A weeping heart, a mental push, a slow buckle at the knees. A strength to pick up a million men, a weakness undefined. A beauty in a family made of his own, a loss seen by the blind. A conversation may have changed it all, to catch the angel before his fall. A slow and mental silence dwells. As we watch this angel as he fell. Now he's gone no reason or whelm. Was there anything here that could've saved him? Was there a reason for him to show a smile that was filled with tears of misery. I offer my condolences and a mental hug for his wife, children, and family.

It’s been a while since I have been on here. I have been working a lot behind the scenes I just published my historical fiction novel on Amazon. I would really appreciate it if anyone who wants would buy a copy and leave a review.

Here's a link:

https://www.amazon.com/Grass-Stains-secrets-forever-future-ebook/dp/B0BKGYZ2KC/ref=mp_s_a_1_5?crid=A4LGRJG43A4G&keywords=grass+stain+book&qid=1669995801&sprefix=grass+stain+book%25252525252Caps%25252525252C161

Thank you so much

it's almost cliché to say you make me feel safe. it's such a fluffy statement, it doesn't do the feeling justice. when you're eyes gaze at me, staying a little longer than "just friends". when you go out of your way to be where i am, to be close to me, doing things i like with the people i enjoy hanging out with... our shared interests and views on life, the way we both let our failures go to our head...

maybe it's not a good thing to just let this all come out but i don't care. it's a ticking time bomb within my chest and it's a matter of time before i blow up.