Spring. It's a season many view as a time of rebirth. Of life and living. Of hope. Of change. Of looking forward rather than back.
So it's a peculiar thing that Lydia ventured to the cemetery on the very first day of Spring.
For her trip she took a long lunch break away from The Stitch, first dropping by a florist to pick up three small arrangements she had requested some time ago. All three were rather simple - one consisted of a few tigerlilies, one was a small cluster of purple and pink posies, and the third was a bundle of white carnations. Each was meant for a different person, and each had a special meaning to Lydia in regards to that person.
On Gwydion's grave she left the tigerlilies, each one brilliant and orange. She found it to be a suiting color for him, something so bright, so radiant, so... sunny. On Maria's grave - a grave she had once sworn to herself she would keep distance from - she left the purple and pink posies. Maria always adored purple with a passion, and the flowers went well with the now faded plum ribbon tied about her grave marker. Mason's grave was where she left the white carnations. White, so pure a color, seemed to be fitting for such a.. reverent man.
Lydia had laid a hand upon the cold granite and marble of each grave and prayed for each person. Though there was no one god she held a belief in she did believe in something. Afterlife. Heaven. Souls and spirits. For each one she prayed for salvation, respite, peace, and happiness. For each one she carried pangs of regret and guilt. For each one she remembered times of joy and peace.
For none did she shed tears.
It was with a sad smile upon her face and an air of calmness that she left the cemetery. It was the first time ever departing that place that she also carried one more thing - acceptance.
So it's a peculiar thing that Lydia ventured to the cemetery on the very first day of Spring.
For her trip she took a long lunch break away from The Stitch, first dropping by a florist to pick up three small arrangements she had requested some time ago. All three were rather simple - one consisted of a few tigerlilies, one was a small cluster of purple and pink posies, and the third was a bundle of white carnations. Each was meant for a different person, and each had a special meaning to Lydia in regards to that person.
On Gwydion's grave she left the tigerlilies, each one brilliant and orange. She found it to be a suiting color for him, something so bright, so radiant, so... sunny. On Maria's grave - a grave she had once sworn to herself she would keep distance from - she left the purple and pink posies. Maria always adored purple with a passion, and the flowers went well with the now faded plum ribbon tied about her grave marker. Mason's grave was where she left the white carnations. White, so pure a color, seemed to be fitting for such a.. reverent man.
Lydia had laid a hand upon the cold granite and marble of each grave and prayed for each person. Though there was no one god she held a belief in she did believe in something. Afterlife. Heaven. Souls and spirits. For each one she prayed for salvation, respite, peace, and happiness. For each one she carried pangs of regret and guilt. For each one she remembered times of joy and peace.
For none did she shed tears.
It was with a sad smile upon her face and an air of calmness that she left the cemetery. It was the first time ever departing that place that she also carried one more thing - acceptance.