The sky was an unsettling shade of gray the afternoon I returned to the cemetery, carrying flowers I had arranged carefully the night before. The clouds hung low, stretching across the horizon like a heavy curtain waiting for its final cue.

The air carried a faint chill, the kind that seeps deep into your bones, reminding you that some places are meant for reflection, not comfort. As I walked between rows of weathered gravestones, each name carved into stone felt like a small echo of someone’s story ending.

My mother’s grave was tucked beneath an old maple tree whose branches reached out like gentle arms, as though still trying to protect her. I knelt down, brushing away a few fallen leaves and the thin layer of dust that had…CONTINUE READING…