A White Rose

It's a cold and windy day. Not unusual for an autumn day. The dead leaves blow across the ground. The cemetery is empty except for a lone, solitary figure.

A young man walks against the wind with his head bent to shield his eyes. He stops suddenly in front of a gravestone and drops to his knees. He reaches up and slowly traces the engraved words with his fingers. Then he begins to speak.
"I'm sorry you died. It's not the same here without you." A pause here. "I'd always admired you, you know. I never told you just how much. You were always so brave and strong. And that smile! You always had a smile on your face. I envied you for being so happy all the time. I didn't think it was right for anyone to hold as much joy as you did. I tried to break you. I wanted to see that beautiful smile falter and your eyes lose their sparkle. I failed, though, didn't I? You just laughed at my pathetic attempts. I couldn't help but admire you more for that. You were the only one who ever dared to laugh at me to my face. And how beautiful you were when you laughed. Your face lit up and the most beautiful sound I had ever heard came out of your mouth. You grew on me. You became my addiction. I never realized it until it was too late. Do you remember the day you looked me in the eye and told me I was no better than scum? That was the day I fell in love with you. I know you loved me back. Maybe you still do. I regret the fact that we never had a proper relationship. I would have given anything to kiss you and be able to stroke your face. I still would, you know. I wish you were here so I could take you in my arms and hold you. But, I know you are where you belong. This place was never good enough for an angel like you."

He takes a white rose from his pocket and lays it near the headstone. He gets up and slowly walks away. And from somewhere up above, a single tear drops down and lands on the rose.


© Rachel Ruppel 2004