The marble stone is white. Its the same height as all the others. The only thing different is your name and age. The sea of marble shouldn't be shocking but it is. Some have a name and a rank, others just a name. The spouses of someone who served.
It is almost fitting that grass doesn't grow in this place. A dry and barren place seems to be a fitting place to rest. The mountains that surround this place are almost like guards. Protecting you and everyone else from the things that might bring harm.
As I stand over the stone looking at your name. A flood of memories goes through my mind. I remember the special times when it was just you and me. The laughing and the picking, the playing and just sitting there talking.
As I sat across from you just weeks before you pasted. You looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm getting old." The words had a sense of regret in them. A longing for more time, a wanting to do more.
The hardest part for those that remained was watching you forget. Forgetting the people who love you. It wasn't your fault, know one blames you. You had no control over any of it. I wish it could have been different.
We have the pictures that were taken months before any of this happened. At the time I thought we had a few more years with you. I will always look back on you and smile. Life it seems, are full of what ifs'. What if we had known sooner? What if we had tried harder? But those things don't matter now.
The white marble stone is cold. Your name is their, but you live in our hearts. No one can touch you there.