The cemetery was all but empty: Kenny Foster’s only company the tall, respectfully imposing figure of Father Delaney. In the background two gravediggers waited, one fiddling with a phone while the other yawned after what must have been a long, successful night before. It now appeared that the Father expected Kenny to say something, something prophetic, something deep and meaningful – just Something. Kenny though was out of words.
His knew his wife had deserved better than this. Better than an cold empty graveside. She had been the most beautiful girl in the village. All the boys came calling. Kenny didn’t think he stood a chance so didn’t even try. She though had spotted him and her mind was set. Other’s mocked as her flaming red curls and jade green eyes were soon keeping Kenny Foster company. At times he looked as if he’d won a lottery, a lottery he hadn’t even bought a ticket for.
She gave him everything. Four kids, a picture postcard home, unquestioned love. What had he given her? A cemetery with nothing but the chill spring breeze for company.
As the Father closed his wrinkled, leather book the two young gravediggers slowly shuffled their way across. Shovels in hand it was time to seal his love away. Walking out through the churchyard the apple blossom began to drift from the trees. Within that shower of fragrant petals his thoughts once more turned to the one he was leaving behind:
She deserved better than this – she deserved better than me.
These words form my entry into this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge.