Yellow Roses

If someone would, for some reason, visit small cementary in Lima on regular basis, he would surely notice an old man, sitting on the bench, looking at beautifully carved grave. More than once some kids mistook him for a statue. Everyday, every time in the year, no matter how bad weather could be, he would be there, sitting on the same bench, small smile ghosting on his lips.

Sometimes there would be someone with him. A man or women, probably his age, looking at him with a mixture of love, worry and admire. They would rarely talk to him, usually just being there with him, even if the man never seems to notice.

However more often he would be alone, silent, lost deep in his own thoughts.

If someone would take his time to watch this man he would notice, that everyday when he appeard in his place right after the gates were opened, he would carry yellow rose with him. Placing it in a small vase, getting rid of the last one, even if it still looked fresh. The old man took his time cleaning the stone, before he would sit in his usual spot.

And then, right before the gates to the cementary were supposed to be closed he would stand up, touch a beautiful angel embellishing the grave and silently whisper ‘I love you’, before with one last look he would leave.

If someone took his time he would notice all of this, and many people did. They would whisper to each other about this strange, silent man, they would consider his bahaviour suspicious or simply sad. They would shake their heads, murmuring that it’s probably because he is so old, because he can’t deal with loosing someone important to him. They would feel sorry for him.

But only someone who would decide to ask, to learn the story of silent man, would truly understand that it’s not saddness nor depressions that keeps him comming here every day. Only person like that would have a chance to learn that it’s simple love, and gratitude for everything he got in his life. Only this person would be able to undestand that the reason why noone ever came to save that old man from his own grief was the fact that this man simply didn’t need to be saved. That this man was ready.

* * *

It took all of the courage 8 years old boy could gather to sit beside this strange, old man on the cementary. He was coming here every day for the last two weeks, ever since his dad died, and he was honestly intrigued by this person he saw every single time. Whenever he came here he couldn’t stop himself from crying. But this man looked peaceful, almost happy. And finally his couriousity was too much to dismiss, so here he was, sitting on a bench in front of beautiful grave of someone he never even knew.

�B... Blaine... Blaine Anderson” he read aloud, not looking at the silent man. �Was he your brother?”

�No” he was not expecting to hear such a gentle, warm voice. He looked at the man, surprised. He never heard someone with voice like that. The man smiled, and all of his earlier nervousness dissapeared. �He was my husband.”

The boy nodded. It was not common for two man to be married but it was not unusual as well. His friend, Mike, had two dad’s and they were really nice people. �Why... Why are you not crying?” he asked, because he was really curious.

�Why should I be crying?”

�Um... He is dead. My dad died two weeks ago and everytime I come here to visit him I cry. And I think I’ll do that forever. I miss him really much...” he admitted, sniffing.

The man looked at him for a long moment before answering. �I miss Blaine too. But you know... We can’t change the past. Our tears won’t bring the person we love back. I... I just believe we should remember this good moments we shared, treasure and relive them. And never, ever give up our feelings.”

�So... So you just sit here everyday, thinking about him, and you never get sad?” boy was lost. He couldn’t understand this at all.

�No, of course I get sad. I really miss him. But I’m grateful for every minute we spent together, I’m happy, because there is not much I can regret. You know... We met all the way back in high school. The times were so different back then. Two man couldn’t get married in most places around the world, and... Having feelings toward another man was seen as something bad. We both suffered because of hate and ignorance when we were younger. But then, somehow, we met each other and we learned... We learned that love is worth it. Love is worth fighting for, suffering for...” the old man looked at him appologetically �I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to listen about it”

�Not at all! It’s... amazing. You really think two people can love each other like that? Like... Without doubts?” the boy asked, thinking about all the fights his parents had. Sometimes he felt like they didn’t love each other and it was sad.

�It’s not so simple. People who love each other sometimes fight” the man admitted, as if he knew exactly what the boy was thinking. �The most important thing is to not let it go stand in your way. Me and Blaine... We were fighting a lot when we were younger. Right after school we moved to New York and it was tought. We had to work whenever we had a few hours free from school, we were constantly tired and never eating enough. Sometimes it was too much and we begun fighting over small things. Sometimes one of us would storm out the door, sometimes we would end up saying things we both regretted later. But every time we were able to talk things through later, to understand each other. And thanks to that we were able to survive the worst, and finally we got married.” The old man stopped talking and for a long time he seemed lost deep in his own thoughts, like he forgot the boy was even here.

�I think... I think you should find some really good memory of your father and hold onto it whenever you really miss him. There is nothing wrong with crying, but I’m sure he would prefer to see you smile, you know? I’m sure he wants you to be happy, even if he can’t be here with you any longer” the man said finally.

Boy considered it for a while. Mum always told him that he should pray to God for dad and that he was watching him from above... But somehow what this man said felt right. He thought about the last time dad took him to funfair. There were having a great time, eating a lot of sweets, riding rollercoaster... Despite this pain he felt every time he thought about his dad, he smiled a little.

�See? Much better. You should treasure this memory you just thought about. It would make you stronger.” The man said, smiling at him.

He was about to say something when he heard mum calling him. He hopped on his feet and looked at the old man.

�I have to go” he explained

�Yes, just remember... Now, without your dad, you have to take care of your mother. You have to be strong for her. I’m sure she misses your father just as much as you do” the man said seriously.

�I know... I will try. Bye!” he waved at the man, running to his mum and taking her hand. He looked at the man for the last time, before leaving the cementary, promising himself that he would try to do just like the old man told him and be strong for his mum.

* * *

After two weeks the boy came to visit his dad’s grave again. He still missed him, but now he knew how to deal with this. Mum always repeated how brave he was and how much he helped her and he was so proud of himself. He really wanted to talk to old man again.

But when got there, he found the bench empty and the grave covered with a lot more flowers than usual. It was strange. It didn’t feel right.

�You are this boy Kurt told us about, right?” someone said behind his back, startling him. He turned around and saw an old women, smiling at him gently.

�Sorry, you never saw me, right? My name is Rachel and I’m Kurt’s friend. Kurt is the name of this man who was always sitting here, on this bench” she explained, putting two yellow roses she was holding in vase.

�Where is he?” the boy asked, even if he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

�He died the day after you talked. He was really sick, you know... He knew he didn’t have much time. But he was really happy after you two talked. You reminded him of some things he lost on his way... He wanted to talk to you again, to see if you felt better.”

�I do! He helped me and I feel bad because I couldn’t thank him...” he felt his eyes burning and he tried really hard not to cry.

�Yes, he always did that to people. But don’t worry. He knew. And talking to you helped him too, so you are even” she smiled again.

�Do... Do you think he is with his husband in Heaven now?” the boy asked silently, looking at the grave and finally noticing a new letters carved in the stone.

�Yes, I’m sure they are together now” she said and he felt better. After a moment he said his goodbye and left to find his mum, sure that he would never forget this strange, old man.

And surely, for many years, whenever he felt completely lost or sad, he came to sit on this bench, thinking about this man he barely knew and who somehow changed his life, this man, whose name he learned only after his death. Kurt Anderson-Hummel.

The End