I was there, I had arrived. Though I had not originally planned to come, there I was. A soft breeze rolled through the branches of a nearby oak. The wind whistled around the leaves, tearing just a handful from the tree's large, safe limbs. Being thrown from their lives and cast down into the cold unknown of the world around them, one fell onto a stone.

And what a lovely stone it was. With people serenading the beautiful rock with weeping and soft whimpering of one no longer here, I too felt the urge to shed a tear. But no amount of tears from me would change the past.

Looking upon the stone, the familiar name stood out to me, cut out in the large rock. The name hurt me now. Like a bouquet of thorns being pulled through my body, it hurt me. My heart ached for the past, and though the pain flowed through every space under my skin, no tears were shed from my face. Not a single tear.

Words were spoken, prayers were said, and still more leaves fell. The grass was short and dry, and happily accepted the dead leaves. But under my feet, the ground burned like fire. One by one, people left. Ready to move on. I was not so ready. My legs felt paralyzed, connected to the coffin that was now unable to be seen. Still more leaves fell. They fell like tears. The leaves will always come back, just as their will be more tears. The tree, now almost bare, held only a few tears left. Just me and the tree.

My eyes ached with the strength of a thousand streams pushing against my eyelids. I looked up, and there it was. A lone leaf, bending to the will of the wind. It hung precariously onto the thin branch that held it. A gust came through and tore the leaf from its weak links. Floating down, back and forth in the wind, it hit the outreaching arms of the grass. They held up the leaf on the ends of their arms, but the wind soon brushed it away. The old oak stood their like a skeleton, a homage to the dead. Its lanky limbs formed a small canopy over the stone, dropping shreds of shade over the grave.

I read the name again. Such a beautiful stone, but the name so ugly. I got up and began to walk. The name was like a smudge. A painful smudge. Such a beautiful stone didn't deserve such an ugly name. I wanted it off. I wanted to peel it off with my own hands. But I kept walking. The stone burned through my back. And as the wind whistled through me, I knew that it was over. Just as the last leaf had fallen, it was over. I rambled on and off to somewhere unknown. I didn't want to come, and I didn't want to leave. My place wasn't here, or anywhere else. My eyes forward, but my mind was still on the stone. My name was ugly, but it was such a beautiful stone.