The gray, granite headstone was rectangular with a slight curve on the top. The front was smooth, but the sides were naturally rough. In the center of the curve was an oval portrait—an engraved portrait of his beautiful smiling wife.
White roses were carved into the stone on both sides of her face. Hugo’s eyes fell on the words below the portrait—Elizabeth P. Dodds, Beloved Daughter and Wife. His eyes lingered on the date—March 30. It had been a year, yet it felt like an instant.
Hugo knelt down in front of the headstone. His eyes focused on the portrait. He wiped away dirt and debris that gathered in the crevasses of the laser etching. He stared into her eyes and fought back tears.
“I’m sorry,” Hugo said. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I wanted to stop by, but I—”
He lowered his head, and a flood of emotions washed over him. The grief he had worked so hard to overcome broke through the barrier. Everything rushed back. The restaurant when he found out the cancer came back. Their last trick or treat together. The hospital visits. The church. His mind flooded with emotions. Tears flowed down his face.
“I should have been back sooner. Everyone tried to tell me to move on, but I couldn’t. How could I? There hasn’t been a day that went by that I didn’t think of you. Your smile. Your warmth. Your smell. I wanted it all again. I’ve begged for it,” Hugo sobbed. “I miss you. I miss you so much.”
He wiped away the tears rolling down his face.
“I got a dog. I named her Maxine, like you wanted. I call her Max. Consider it a compromise,” he let out a chuckle as his tears rolled past. “She’s a real pain in the butt. You would love her. I’m sure she would have loved you more than me.”
Hugo paused.
“Everyone misses you. I get reminded about it all the time. People tell me how great you were. How you’re missed. How you’re loved. The Raskins are watching after me. They always make sure I’m taken care of. Well, I think they’re mostly making sure Max is okay.”
He allowed a slight smile before his face fell solemn. He scanned the cemetery to ensure he was alone. There were only the ghosts of past lives in the cemetery that evening. He licked his lips. He moved his jaw, readying himself to tell her his secret. Shame washed over him.
“I…” he started before admitting his betrayal. “I met someone. She’s new in town. She moved in next door. She’s unique. She has a purple house filled with stuff. You would’ve loved it.”
He paused.
“She’s a witch. Like a really for real witch. And she has a flying broom. And does magick. That’s magick with aK. There’s a difference. She reminds me of that constantly. Oh! And there’s this magick mirror who tries to flirt with me all the time.And wine! She makes wine. This magical wine. We made wine together. She turned me into a true wine connoisseur, like you always wanted to do.”
There was a hint of joy in Hugo’s words.
“She let me fly her broom. I named it Galahad. Just like—”
Hugo’s words became quieter.
“Just like the horse I rode on when I proposed. And I almost died!”
His voice picked up again.
“I fell off the broom, and it saved me. It scooped me up before I crashed into the trees. And we flew around, going faster and faster. It was fantastic. He’s… He’s a good buddy.”
The tears stopped.
“For the past few months, she has made me feel so much joy and happiness. Feelings I haven’t felt in a long time, and I think I blew it.”
The joy faded from his face.
“We got into an argument and… and I said things out of frustration. I shouldn’t have said them. I lashed out at the one person who actually made me feel happy again. And… and I ruined it.”
The breeze picked up. The tree branches cracked and strained at the movement. The sky grew darker as it turned a shade of purple, yellow, and red. Hugo bowed his head. He struggled for the words.
“I love her,” he told Elizabeth. “She loves me too. I want it to work. I want to move on, but I can’t. I thought I did. I tried, but you were always there in the back of my mind. Then today happened. I can’t let you go. How could I? How can I let you go?”
He grabbed the headstone with both hands.
“What should I do?”
He leaned his forehead against her portrait. Tears flowed down his face.
“Please tell me.”