روايات وقصص ضمن Don't Weep At My Tombstone

She thought for so long like she had to fetch the feelings from some faraway place. “Sad.” The word dropped off and I was dissatisfied. I expected more, she always spoke so much. A single word was foreign to her. It was wrong. “You?” she asked. “Dead inside,” I replied. She looked at me and nodded in agreement. Hannah drove us to a nearby place that was behind the house. I’d never run in this direction so I didn’t know this place existed. It looked like any other normal part of the forest but it had a giant tombstone between two trees. A few more trees formed a U around the tombstone like it was meant to be there. The name ROWLAND TRAGA was engraved on it, along with his date of birth and de

The freshly planted grass covering the heap beneath me is soft, still damp from morning dew, the blades bending under my weight. I place the red flowers carefully against the brand-new marble tombstone. It smells faintly of dust and rain, the engraved letters too sharp, too fresh, like the universe hasn’t yet realized how wrong they are. A few tears slip down my cheek before I can stop them. I wipe them away quickly with the back of my hand, glancing around as if someone might catch me. Which is stupid. Because crying at a grave is probably the one place society actually allows emotional breakdowns without judgment.

I want to apologize for what I have done and what more can I be do. "I will never ever forget you." I couldn’t stop a few tears from falling in my eyes. "Sorry, goodbye. Thank you to all the things you done to me." For the last time I caressed his tombstone. Even though I was crying there was a smile on my lips because there was a wind that seemed to and I felt it hugged me. Smile of gratitude, longing and letting go. I went home after a few more minutes. When I got home I immediately went into our room and checked the time.

"And go to them." "What?" She looks at me, something softer in her expression. "Your parents. You always go to them when the ground shakes. Go." “Will you come with me?” “If you want me to.” “I do.” It’s cold. The cemetery never changes. The air always has that damp bite to it, like grief gets into the soil and never leaves. I kneel. Their names are etched in stone like it was supposed to bring peace. It never does. I stare for a while. Long enough for the wind to cut through my coat. I place a single lily between them.

For the first time, I acknowledged Ethan's right to mourn our daughter. (Ethan's POV) I knelt before my daughter's moonstone tombstone, the cold ground seeping through my pants. The cemetery was silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

A rock once void of meaning now is a sombre canvas painted with the echoes of lost lives. I walk to each and every one of the graves, my fingers tracing their names forever etched in stone. These are the people who had given me hope when all had been lost to me. These are the very people who had lost their lives to protect mine. These are the very people who died so that I could live. I will never be able to atone them for all that they had sacrificed. It should have been me lying six feet underground. I stop at the doctor’s tombstone and place a yellow rose on it. Then, I sit down beside her tombstone, near the mound of brown dirt that covers it and offer a soft-spoken prayer to her, "May y

My heart felt so big inside my ribcage that I was scared it would explode at any moment. A tear ran down my face as I stared at the tombstone before I decided to leave. “To My Dearest Mate.” was engraved on the tombstone.

Even after everyone had paid their respects at my gravestone, I couldn’t find his figure among the crowd. As people began to disperse, only Troy and Mom remained at the gravestone. They shared one last glance before leaving. I sat idly in front of my gravestone, trying to appear strong. “Troy to choose such a nice photo. All those hours I spent editing it weren’t in vain, at least it’s serving a purpose now,” I said loudly, to no one in particular. Then my emotions suddenly burst forth like a dam breaking. The realization that I was dead and would never again sit with everyone I loved overwhelmed me, and I began to weep uncontrollably.

The truth that your loved ones could cease to exist at any moment? “We’re here”. I heard him say. And it was only then that I blinked several times to clear my vision. And my heart clenched excruciatingly as my gaze settled on the tombstone in front of me. The words ‘Hope Grant. 3rd Feb, 2023 – 3rd Feb, 2023. Forever loved’ were engraved.

We suddenly felt the refreshing air, just like the times when we used to run through the fields while laughing in the warm breeze of sunset. Back then, I was carefree. But now, it seemed like that person had long been buried in some forgotten corner of the world. As we walked toward Peter and Lila's grave, I whispered their names, "Dad, Mom..." Tears welled up in my eyes. Their tombstone was stained with blood. The sight before me struck so hard that everything went black. The once simple and humble tombstone was now defiled with disgusting, bloody graffiti. I rushed toward the grave.