Alone in a Graveyard.

A funeral is taking place.

The cold rain had stopped, the clouds still hung over the many graves.  The little path that led its way through the area, was soaked.  The puddles that had formed on the concrete, reflected the grey sky from above.  The cars were parked at the far-end of the cemetary. 

On this particular day a funeral was taking place.  Many people had turned up to pay their respects, and rightly so.  The man who had died, was a war veteran, and a good bloke in general.  On a Friday night he would always be down his local, always laughing and joking.  The pretty barmaids loved him, even though he was an elderly man, the age of eighty-nine.  This is why the graveyard was full of his friends, and relatives.  Some cried as the sad tears ran down their cold cheeks.  Others just looked glum, not knowing how to react.

And then there was me, his grandaughter. 

I decided to stand away from the rest of the group, watching from afar. 

I loved my granddad, the only problem was, I knew his secret, and no one else did.  I vowed never to say what he had done, many years before.

At the age of twenty nine I had lost my dad also, the reason behind his death was a lot to do with today.  That is why I stood away from everyone else, under a lonely willow.  The slight growth sheltering me from the impending downpours.  The dark high-heels that I wore on my tired feet, dug firmly into the slimy mud. 

The coffin was lowered into the hole with sheer accuracy, such proffesionlism.  The man of many years was now six feet under.  

The group left within minutes of this happening.  Then like before, the water from above fell from the darkened heavens, splashing the land with its fury. 

I still stood under the willow tree, protected from the bad weather.

A man appeared with a rusty shovell, a pile of earth now being thrown into the hole. 

The sadness then overwhelmed me.  My grandaddy was gone forever, and I still did not know the full truth of that fateful night, when my father who I loved very much, was hit while walking the family pet.  His bloodied body then lay in the road, and yes, he was dead. 

After my dad's funeral, I just got on with life as you do.  But one drunken night, a close friend told me something that would rock my world, literally.

This certain friend revealed, that when my beloved daddy was hit, it was actaully his dad who had caused the accident.  The friend telling me the shock on his face of killing his own son, was a sight to behold.  I never told another soul until now, not even mother. 

I hated that b*****d for sometime after.

But after a while I felt sorry for him.  The grief he must of felt, would stay with him forever.  Maybe the stroke was the inner stress, of what he had done?

Strangely enough that is the last time I saw my grandad, from that day forward. 

Now twelve years later, I am here to forgive him.  I love you grandad, and I forgive you.

Once the hole was covered, I left the graveyard and headed back to my car.  Thankfully the rain had stopped, the sun now shone.  Just like my soul, the darkness was slowly vanishing, as the light was finally gaining control.

The End.