She spent every day at his grave. Sweet sobs escaped her lips, barely heard over the sounds of chirping birds and singing grasshoppers. The grass was a bright green that reflected the burning yellow of the sun. A summer breeze swept through the trees and left a mess of pine needles on the forest ground. His grave was upon a hill, a clearing in a dense wilderness that lasted for miles. She knelt there at the top of it and let her tears fall upon the short blades of grass that now covered the rich soil of his resting place. This was a ritual that she beheld, a daily practice that could last for minutes, or for hours. She didn't care how long she was made victim to the blazing sun, or the longing and sullen moon. Perhaps the nights were easier, when the grass became a soft mint and the breeze became more of a wind. At least then she could feel him in the stars and her tears were not dried so quickly by the heat.

Once she had had her time, she would make the long trek home, walking through the hills and through the forest, her hands brushing against the gentle wildflowers. Her face would be red and her eyes would be strained, but she didn't care. It was a price that she didn't mind paying. She would get to her little cottage at the edge of the woods. The flowers in her garden were wilted. The house was dusty and dirt littered the floors. She would eat and drink and sleep. The sun would rise once again, showering her home with light. She would wake up, eat, drink, and walk to his grave again. She did this faithfully and she didn't have to know why. Perhaps it was the voice in her head that told her she would take it back somehow. Maybe it was even the thought that a higher power would take pity in her tears and lift her grief. It didn't matter to her, whether it was a power or forgiveness, she was wiling to give up her life to lay down on his unmarked resting place. Something in her may have even thought that her tears could be powerful, so she gave them to him. Could his sprit hear her pain? Would he love her enough to end her pain?

She didn't care if it was death or a sudden change if heart that lifted her from this grief. She knew something would end the cycle, and she believed it would be a blessing for her loyalty. One day this blessing would take form, suddenly lifting her spirit from this familiar countryside. So, she walked and walked. Her legs ached and her shoulders screamed. She carried flowers for him that day and her basket proved to be heavier than expected. But she was loyal, and she came to him with her heart wide open. She heaved herself up to his place on the hill. The flowers were planted around the grave by her rough and muddied hands. They were sunflowers mostly, that was what grew this time of year. They were beautiful and joyful gifts compared to what grief laid behind her eyes. Hours passed and her flowers were planted. Her basket was empty and her fingernails were caked with dirt. She sat at his grave. She sobbed again, hot tears fell down her reddened cheeks. They landed onto the soil silently and sunk below to his remains. The sun was setting and she was tired. She wanted to stay, so she laid down against the soft grass. A gentle breeze swooped down and dried her tears. The moon rose over the hill, an army of stars following behind it. Sleep covered her eyes and she was no longer there. Her spirit was lifted as promised, but her fragile body was left behind, hidden in the flowers, faithfull guarding his grave.