Don't Weep At My Tombstone นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I swallowed my grip tightening around the flowers in my hands as I approached Tristan tombstone, my knees buckled almost immediately and I crouched in front of it, the world narrowing down to the cold slab of stone and the name carved into it. “Baby,” I whispered. My voice cracked instantly, the sound fragile and broken. Seeing his name like that, etched into something so permanent, made my chest ache in the way It normally does when I come to see him. The tombstone was worn down, the years evident in every crack and faded edge. Leaves from nearby trees lay scattered across it, partially covering his name. It felt wrong. Like he had been left alone for too long. “Mooma’s here again,” I sobbe

The price is too high, and Andrea is paying it with her life. *** I stand under the rain, the steady patter a somber accompaniment to my thoughts. Samuel holds the umbrella over me as I place a bouquet of vibrant red roses on Evelyn’s tombstone. The polished granite reads “Evelyn Joan Harper, a loving daughter,” a stark reminder of a life cut short.

It felt like yesterday she was smiling at me and the next moment I had to carry her cold body here. Her scream still haunts me in my dreams . Some say time will heal the old wounds but some just never heal . I looked at the picture that was placed before the tombstone when she was buried years ago . Her smile lightened up her entire face in the picture. Somebody said you can only understand something or someone's value until you lose it. I still can feel her loss these days.

1970-2017. Wesley dropped the flower he brought at the tomb and walked away from the tomb with Moscow. Eve fell on her knees and her hands run across the tomb. Wiping the dust off the name on his tomb. It’s been a long while without him. “This is where you’ve been. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to visit all these times. How have you been, have been fine dad, just that I’ve missed you a lot? You don’t have to worry ain’t crying. I’ve been strong like you warned me to.” The tears came down her face willingly and she did not attempt to wipe them off.

~ One Week Later~ As we all stood in the now beautiful cemetery which was once filled with sadness and a suppressive feeling of dread and despair, I gazed around each updated tombstone with a smile. Even though it was a day I never wanted to approach, I was thankful that it was me giving the speech.

I turn to look at Tay. “What are we doing at a graveyard?” I ask. I have never set a foot in a cemetery before, it’s my first time. “Come on,” Tay says instead of answering my question. I unbuckle my seatbelt and hop out of the car. Tay offers me his hand as I close the door. I take his hand and we walk through the graveyard under the umbrella. After minutes of walking, we come to a halt at a creamy tombstone. I turn to look at Tay, but his eyes are fixed on the tombstone.

Deep in the cemetery, there was a conspicuous tombstone. Lined with lush pine trees on both sides, it was vibrant and full of life. Ronan leaned slightly and placed the bouquet of white roses in front of the tombstone. The tombstone bore the inscription "Grave of beloved wife Lyra," and there was a profound sadness in his eyes that couldn't be dispelled. He gently caressed the tombstone, his lips twitching slightly, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately unable to speak. Ronan took out a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the tombstone clean.

" ...... He cried and shouted, pouring out his feelings in a way so raw and emotional that anyone watching would have been moved to tears. But was he an idiot? I was already dead, my body starting to rot, and he thought a few words could bring me back? I was not bothered by it anymore. He treated me like nothing when I was alive, and now, he wanted to act heartbroken at my grave? Whoever wanted him could have him. I was done. He stayed at my grave for half a day before heading back, making arrangements to move my remains to a burial site in Central High. He said he wanted me to be laid to rest in peace there. If I weren’t just a wandering spirit, I would have slapped him. Wasn’t I already re

Six months later, the Sicil City sun was still as blinding as ever. I stood before a fresh tombstone in the Famiglia cemetery in a long, black velvet dress. There wasn't a name engraved into the tombstone. Instead, there was just a line of words there. "For the angel I never met." I set down a bouquet of white lilies before the tombstone, tracing the cold marble with my fingers. The hole in my heart hadn't fully healed, but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore.