JUDE
My fingers are gripping the flowers in my hand tightly, but carefully enough not to break the stem.
On the other hand, Miko's fingers are threading in mine as we walk along the overgrown trail. It's eerily quiet, the chilling wind cutting, the whole place seemingly peaceful despite the demanding cold, the silence that is forcing you to acknowledge that you are in a cemetery.
Some headstones are empty, not cared for; others have dried flowers, and others have fresh flowers from loved ones visiting. I exhale softly, eyes ahead as I get closer and closer to the fresh grave, and a new headstone that can be seen a few feet away.
Jude tightens his hold on mine when we reach my grams, flowers still laid above, still fresh because it has only been three days since she was put to rest.
I let go of Miko's hand as I kneel and place the bouquet of her favourite flowers -daisies- down, and then kneel beside her.
"Hi, Grandma, I came."
