Pink daisies for his grave

I go to the grocery store to buy a bouquet of pink daisies. I take a drive to Bayview cemetery while the sun is setting. Everything is cast in a golden light and the sky is still blue. I come to bring these daisies for Luciano, my old friend.  
He has been on my mind quite frequently lately. We became friends in the Spring years ago. Now that it is Spring again, the sun on my skin reminds me of all the times we had in the daylight. How we worshipped the sun. We took every opportunity to bask in its warmth. He’d come pick me up afterwork and we would be off on our next adventure. He was my friend. A true and genuine friend.

 I feel an empty spot next to me now. When I am walking a trail or at the top of a mountain looking over the water. I look next to me and he is not there. When it has just rained and you can smell the greenery, I want to ask him if he loves it still too. 

His gravestone is shiny. Etched into it is a picture of him fishing off of his family dock. Theres a soccer ball on there, too. I clear the leaves and flowers the have fallen from trees off his site. I run my fingers over his name. I place the pink daisies carefully. He would have loved this sunny day.

I don’t cry until I sit back in my car. What I would give for one more sunshine day with him. 

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