She laid in the far corner of the cemetery by a bench  in the dappled shade of a young sapling tree The flowers on her resting place were artificial and changed regularly  to reflect the season; artificial not through any lack of care, love or affection but expediency due to the ravenous attentions of muntjac, rabbits and birdlife.

The old man visited the grave of his life long partner each and every week without exception save from those enforced by adverse weather and illness. Seated on the bench he oft wondered how long it would be before he and his loved one were reunited he existed, he realised, in some comfort nevertheless his moods varied between solitary contentment and despondency. Truth to tell death no longer concerned of worried him if there was anything after death then he wanted to share it with his beloved if there was nothing then he wanted to be at rest with her. His one dread was being unable to continue his weekly visits, that he would find hard but meanwhile he found relief and solace in his regular visitations.