Spend all your time waiting for that second chance. For the break that would make it okay. There?s always some reason to feel not good enough, and it?s hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction.
---Sarah McLachlan---

Baton Rouge National Cemetery
220 N 19th St. Baton Rouge, LA 70806

I wound the Shelby slowly through the little roads in the cemetery. It was dark, quiet and slightly eerie. I pulled to a slow stop at row twenty-two and cut the engine on the Shelby. I leaned back in the driver's seat a moment to gather the courage I had mustered to step through the gate to do this.

I felt death and sadness all around me, in my line of work, unfortunately you had to visit the cemeteries, morgues and coroner's office to often.

I glanced out the open window of the drivers side and down row twenty-two. I didn't have to glance to far down.. Plot number four was only about eight feet from where the Shelby was parked. I took a deep breath and shoved open the door and stepped onto the cool pavement.

A dozen red roses in my arms, I walked down the short pathway to plot number four and stood there looking down at the headstone...

"In loving memory of Marcus Jonothan Donatelli. May 06, 1981-February 14, 2005."

I read the epitaph over and over, and tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over. I knelt down on the cool grass that covered his grave and leaned over to run my fingertips over the epitaph that was engraved into the solid marble.. As if touching it would allow me to touch Mark.

I shook my head as chestnut strands fell around my face, and I placed the roses ever so lovingly across the top of his grave. Sitting back, I crossed my legs indian style, not even bothering to brush away the pieces of grass and leaves that had clung to my pants. I propped my elbows atop my knees, and cradled my chin in my hands, rocking back and forth.

The night was silent as death herself would be, the only sound that filled the humid Louisiana night were the crickets off in the distance and sobs that wracked my five foot, one inch frame.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality was about a half hour of solid crying, I sniffled and raised my eyes to look at the headstone and the pictures that friends and family had placed. Someone had left one of Mark and I at our high school graduation.

I leaned over and gently plucked it off it's stand and cradled it in my hands, my fingertips brushing over the slightly dusty glass of the frame. "Oh Mark, you had such a long life yet to live mon amour. I am so sorry for what happened to you." I took a deep breath and looked up to the stars, felt the caress of the moonlight and sighed deeply.

"Are you up there Mark? Does Heaven really exist, mon amour?" My lips curved into a very slow smile as I looked back down at the picture, particularly the side that contained Mark. My tears were splashing against the glass frame, but I didn't care.

"I miss you so much Mark, and I'm sorry for so many things. I'm sorry that I didn't cry when we laid you to rest. I'm sorry that it took me so very long to finally let myself mourn for you." I shook my head and used the back of my hand to wipe away more tears, they were beginning to blur my view of Mark entirely to much. "I'm sorry for being such a coward," I choked out between sobs.

I hugged the picture close to my chest and rocked back and forth in place. "We had so many plans mon amour, we had such a long life left to live together." I shook my head and ran a hand through chestnut strands.

"You know, I had the speech all planned out in my head while I was driving out here, and now I can't remember it for the life of me." I let out a very small, timid laugh and brushed my fingers over the picture again. "I.. I never got to say goodbye to you, so I.." I was sobbing so badly, that I could barely make out what I was saying, and had to take a few minutes to recompose myself.

"I came here tonight to say goodbye Mark, I know it's been a long time, and that it is long overdue, but..." I took a long, steadying breath and used the back of my hand to brush away a few more tears. "I met someone who has gone through what I am going through with you. His name is Keir Harding, and he lost his wife, Becky and his ten month old daughter, Emma to a drunk driver." I pursed my lips a few moments and tilted my head.

"He helped me to realize mon amour that if I let you go.. If I mourn for you and grieve, that it doesn't mean that I will stop loving you. He helped me realize that even though you are.." I swallowed around the lump that had formed in my throat and took a deep breath. Could I actually do this? Could I say it and would I be alright with it? I had come this far, already said so much.. Did I have the strength?

"...Gone that I can still love you Mark, and I'll still be able to love someone else like I loved you one day. That I can find that happiness again someday mon amour." I said it, I did it. I closed my eyes as a few tears found their way to my lips and the salty taste tingled my taste buds.

"He showed me by asking me what I would have told told you if I had been the one to die that night, and I was looking down on you. He asked me what I would have said to you mon amour." A faint smile curved my lips through the rain of tears. "And that's when I realized Mark, that even in your death I can love you. A part of you will always be with me Mark, and I know that now."

I looked at the beautiful headstone that laid at his grave, and ran my fingers over the etching once more. "I know that you would not want me to go through life alone mon amour, nor would you want me to give up on the dreams that we had shared in life. I'll bring you with me every step of the way. I promise Mark.. I love you, I always will."

I leaned forward and brushed my lips against the cool marble and then raised the picture to my lips and did the same before setting it back where it belonged. I pushed up from the earthen soil and stood there a moment, my arms crossed over my breasts and instead of looking down at his grave.. I looked up towards the darkened skies, clouds and the stars above.

It was a warm night out, so there should have been no reason for the goosebumps.. There should have been no reason for the shiver that coursed through my body.. The chill that caressed my exposed flesh and touched me to my very soul...

I swore that I smelled Drakkar, the cologne that Mark had always been fond of..

And in that moment, a very cool, gentle breeze caressed my skin and I could have sworn on my career that in those stars and darkened clouds above me.. I saw Mark's face smiling down at me.

In the arms of the angel. Fly away from here. From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. You?re in the arms of the angel. May you find some comfort here.
---Sarah McLachlan---