4 years later.
It’s raining and I’m walking through a wet cemetery with a couple of remaining family members who I’ve never met before. All our faces are grim as we walk towards the empty grave.
We stop around it, tears rushing down my face silently. The priest mumbles some words as the coffin is getting laid into the deep grave. The priest finishes and I go over to the grave and look down. The coffin is in there and the rain is pouring onto it.
I let out a little wail as I throw my yellow rose down into the grave. I hear a soft thud as it hits the coffin. I step back as the others do the same. People start shovelling mud into the grave, burying the coffin underneath its earthly ground.
My last remaining family members walk away, leaving my rooted to the ground, soaking wet. The people have finished shovelling the earth into the grave. They also walk away not looking back.
I shakily walk over to the new grave and my legs buckle, making me splash mud all over my black dress. I don’t care though; I’m too hurt to care. I run my fingers over the letters on the new gravestone. It says
Always Be Remembered By His Loving Daughter.’
I sigh, getting to my soaking feet. I walk away, still not wanting to believe that he is gone. I don't want to believe that my father has left me, I don't want to believe that he has like he said he never would.