Another year had passed another long year. Each day it seemed to get slightly easier however this day each year was still just as hard as ever. Kurt lay in bed it was still dark outside and he couldn’t sleep. In his hand he clutched a silk scarf the other end of which rested upon his pillow right next to his face. It still smelt like she had, and for a few seconds he would believe that she was there lying next to him. Deep down he knew she was gone, and had been for 6 long years.
He lay there for the next couple of hours until he could stand it no longer, he couldn’t just lie there thinking. He got up and slipped into the kitchen and started to make breakfast for him and his dad. His dad had done so much for him in those last 6 years he owed this to him at least, plus his dad couldn’t exactly cook, and it was one of Kurt’s specialities. He put the bacon into the pan to fry and put the kettle on for coffee.
He heard his dad’s footsteps on the stairs over the low noise of the kettle; his dad had obviously been roused by the smell of bacon, which Kurt cooked very infrequently. Kurt looked up from the pan as his dad walked in and he could tell he’d been crying his eyes were red and puffy. His dad rarely cried but on this day every year it was certain that he would.
They both remained silent while Kurt continued on breakfast and poured his dad a cup of coffee setting it down on the bench next to him, before going back to pour himself one. He then buttered the bread and took the bacon out of the pan to make bacon sandwiches. He gave one to his dad and kept one for himself.
They ate silently for the first few minutes before Burt broke the silence. “Want come to the church with me today kiddo?”
Kurt nodded not wanting to answer as at the talk of the church, meaning grave yard a lump had grown in his throat, and he know that talking would lead him to cry.
Burt place a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Ok I’m going to go get ready we’ll leave about 9”
Kurt looked at his watch it was 7.30 so he had enough time to get a shower and do his moisturising routine, something that might seem strange on such a sad day, but it was something his mom had taught him to do, and it made him feel close to her.
**********
They arrived at the church yard that Kurt knew so well at 9.10 and he slowly got out of the car flowers in his shaking hands. He walked round to his dad, who give him a half-hearted smile, and placed a hand round his son’s shoulder as they started to walk slowly down the lines of graves knowing the way without even really having to think about it.
They arrived at the grave that read
“Elizabeth Hummel
Loving Wife and Mother
2nd February 1967 - 5th June 2001”
Once Kurt was in front of the grave he couldn’t hold it in anymore and hot salty tears started to roll down his face, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t normally one for openly showing emotion but this was different it was just him and his dad; at the place where his mom was buried he knew he wasn’t going to be judge for it. His dad wrapped his arms around him patting him on the back trying to comfort him the best he could.
After a few minutes they pulled away from each other and set to tidying the pretty tidy graves. One thing the men did pride themselves in was keeping it looking pristine by making sure at least one of them visited each week.
Kurt laid the flowers in the vase spending special care to making sure that each one fell in just the right place to set off the rest. Then he sat down next to the head stone his father the opposite side. Both were silent.
Until Kurt almost silently whispered “I miss you mom”