That bright and golden red Autumn day was not the first time I had seen her there and I knew it would not be the last. I knew that she would not stop coming until she herself was no longer in this world. Seeing her always struck a sad, poignant note within me. She was the beneficary of a long, rich, full and exciting life in many of the townspeople's opinions but watching her there, at the cemetery, so many times, I had to wonder if they really knew what her life had been like. The first time she had come, she was much younger. She had arrived in a flashy, red convertible, big, shiny with a ton of chrome on it. She had come alone since she was able to drive herself then. When she climbed out of the car and started down the walk, she was dressed in an elegant black dressed that molded to her slender figure as it were part of her body instead of an apparel to cover it. She had worn a wide brimmed black hat with a veil covering her face and her neatly coiffured hair. But as she drew closer to the first of the graves, she raised the veil so I could see her face. She was a beautiful woman with classic features, a pert nose, high cheekbones, a wide brow and tiny chin. Her eyes were often said to haunt men's minds. They were large, elliptical and lavender. Very few people in this world had lavender eyes, that strange mixture of hazel and deep blue that produced the lavender color. Yet, on this time, those lovely eyes were swollen and red-rimmed and her face drawn and pale. She stopped at the first grave and stood quietly, staring down at it. I could almost sense the pain emananting from her. I saw then that she carried two roses in her left black gloved hand, one rose white and one rose red. With her right hand, she took the white rose and laid it with the upmost tenderness on the grave. Then with a sigh, so loud and so heavy that I could hear from that distance, she turned from the grave and followed the concrete walk across that section of the cemetery and into the second. She finally came to stop by a single grave, a new grave, marked by a large marble statue of an angel, with outspread wings, at its head. It was far different from the tiny headstone at the first and older grave. As she knelt on the still broken muddy ground by the freshly turned dirt on the grave, she was unmindful of her expensive, elegant silk stockings and black paten leather pumps. She only had eyes for the grave upon which she laid the single red rose at the base of the statue. She then began to weep softly but I could see from the shudders of her shoulders that the sobs were coming deep from within her. She only stayed for a short while and then she left. I did not see her for quite awhile after that, but the next week after her visit, some men came and brought something large and heavy for the older grave. I watched with interest as they worked far into the evening of that hot day and when they were done, there had been a great change at that grave. Where the tiny little headstone had once stood, there was now another statue but this one was a little girl holding a tiny baby lamb in her arms. She, too, was made of the expensive ivory marble as was the angel at the second grave. I knew it for what it was...the last devoted touch of a mother's love for the tiny baby girl that lay forever sleeping in that small grave. She had been dead for almost fifteen years now but she was still very special in her mother's heart. That beautiful, well-dressed woman had been her mother. Over the years, the second grave grew a thick coverlet of grass. The little girl statue and the slightly off-centered angel grew pale with nature's dust and rain and were no longer the glistening, gold-streaked marble that had been when they were new. Yet, ever six months or so, the woman would come to see them, always bringing a single white rose for her baby daughter and a single red rose for the man in the second grave, the baby's father. Both parents had outlived the child but now only the mother remained alive. Yet, the man had lived several years after the baby's passing, so why had there not been a second child? Ambition! An ambition so strong that it taken the woman, then just a young wife and the grieving mother, out of this town and into a world where her exquisite sophrano voice had gained her fame and great wealth. Her husband, feeling betrayed and abandoned, had refused to join her when she had achieved reknowned success. Though he had loved her, he had never desired that type of life and had chosen to remain quietly happy in their hometown. He had died in an accident and his death had brought his wife back to that town. She had taken up the task of caring for their daughter's grave as he was no longer able to tend to it as he had so lovingly done over the years and she also kept a faithful, though far-placed attendance to her now deceased husband. As the years advanced, so did the woman's age, until she retired and came home at last herself to live out the rest of her days in the town where she had been born, raised in, met her love, married him, bore their only child, and had left behind to follow a dream that had never remained disquiet within her but cried to be heard. Now, when she came, she no longer drove herself but came in a long sleek limousine, driven by the silent man who had been her driver and bodyguard for many years. She had never known that he secretly loved her but he knew that only one love ruled her heart. So he had taken care of her. She needed that care now as she was old, bent and tired but still elegant and still tragic. At last on another golden-red Autumn day, I saw the grave diggers come to the site of her husband's grave and begin to shovel the ground up next to him. I knew she had gone. This time when she came to the cemetery, she would not leave again but forever sleep in peace by the man she loved beneath the feet of that beautiful angel and in the sight of their daughter's grave with her little girl and lamb. I did not feel sad as I am really but with being a part of Nature and the Earth itself, I knew the story and the end had finally come. Now, I stand guard over all three graves and they are covered in auburn beauty as my leaves of love fall upon them. Who would think that a hundred year oak tree could see, hear, feel and know so much?
Today is my first day of school...Ermz..as usual, the lecturers launch the tutorials on de first day of school...besides this, school is quite fun actualli...At least, it kept my mind occupied...i do not have to think of those stupid stuff...It was fun because i kinda like the project...but erm...the combination was a bit "off"....Massage therapy and tailored suits????? Haha...N how am i going to draw a view of a massage therapy room??? OMG!!!
I got nothing to do so i went friendstering...then, i read this...i tot it was quite meaningful...
Was reading Kamini's blog just now and i certainly agree that the SP webby for gems registration is sooooo -_-"
I'm fine...i'm realli fine..
My life is back to what it is a few months ago...i made a decision, i think i'm right..i noe my friends will support me...but i just can't help crying...i'm breaking down...i know i have to get over with this by myself...no one can help me...IT IS JUST SOMETHING I CAN'T SAY...i couldn't tell my family..i dun wish to tell anyone either..cos their advice dun work...it doesn't work on me...so save it..dun bother advising me...
It's been awhile since my last post..so i'm gonna post something today since i'm free....
I'm back...
Just like to write something before i go to bed....
Pathlight sucks....gotta map the materials in by today...i'm tired...i wanna sleep...
Haix....gotta bring my bao bei lappy on friday...so heavy...sian...
Hehe..i'm beginning to like my life a lil...hahaha....
DARLINKS
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YUHUA SECONDARY
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Yi Xian
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25th September / Libran
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