He held in his hands the dying roses. The last remnants of a life and love gone by. He slowly moved from where he stood and walked towards the grave stone. It was only a couple days before he stood here, tears streaming down his cheek as the pastor made his way through the service. Now he was back to bring her the last of her favorite flower, red roses. The roses were wilting but he knew she would’ve still loved them. 

“Good bye dear. We had 50 good years. I will miss you.”

He turned and shuffled off.