Title: Drowning In Memories
By: Bridget McKennitt
Word Count: 327
Challenge: supernatural100's prompt grave
Contains: No warnings in as far I know that can't be extrapolated from the header itself.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke and other companies. They are used here without permission, and for entertainment purposes only. No challenge or infringement upon the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred.
The sky was overcast with clouds that looked heavy enough to burst water. Tamara thought it fitting for the day. She dressed in her finest black dress and pearls - the pearls were a gift from one of her birthdays from Isaac - before slipping on a worn friendship bracelet her daughter had made. Red string for her favorite color, and green for her daughter's. Tamara put the finishing touches of her makeup on in front of the mirror before heading out and getting into her truck.
The latest Disney pop song played on the radio and Tamara gave it a few seconds of play before clicking it off. Silence filled the truck which was just fine for her.
She had one stop to make before her destination. The old man, Colin, tipped his hat as she entered his flower shop. She chose a simple bouquet, filled with her favorite flowers, before paying in cash. She always paid in cash, a habit forged from years of hunting.
"Thanks, Colin," she said, as she left.
The first time she had visited the graves of her husband and daughter, she hadn't expected to make it a tradition. She had salt and burned both bodies ages ago and they weren't coming back as vengeful ghosts. She wasn't a sentimental woman, not particularly so. That emotion belonged squarely in Isaac's corner.
Yet here she was, year after year, on the anniversary of Isaac's death, visiting and remembering.
She separated the flowers in the bouquet and laid them to rest at the base of each tombstone. She sat down on her knees and began to tell them how much she loved them, how much she missed them, and that she'll see them someday soon.
Tamara never stayed long, she wasn't one to drown in sorrow, not even sorrow as painful as losing her family, and as she dusted the blades of grass off her dress, she whispered her goodbyes.
Until next year.
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