An Overdue Visit

That familiar and unpleasant feeling of anxiety was present in Thayne's stomach as he made his way slowly through the rows of beds and lawns. He clutched a bouquet in his hands with sweaty fingers. He had always been nervous whenever he had gone to visit her, before. He found himself thinking of a time when they had both been teenagers, an age ago. After years of distant admiration, he had one day found the courage to approach her without any other reason than to initiate a conversation. It had been a mental battle not to end the conversation and flee when the opportunities presented themselves. That even the most unlikely chance of a relationship had not been dashed had put him in the clouds for days.
He did not know what it would be like this time, did not know how he would feel.
When he saw her it all came back in a terrible rush. He had not been ready to come here. The flowers he had brought with him dropped to the ground through loose fingers. He chided himself for not preparing himself properly for this visit. Certain pains had been buried with time, but they had never really gone away. They never could. The pain was like that of a forgotten wound, hidden beneath bandages but never healing. Now he felt like someone had just ripped the dressing off and torn all the stitches out to boot. He fell to his knees. How long had it been? Nine years? No, ten. He didn't know what he had been expecting to find here, but this was not it.
He was vaguely aware of someone crying. A barrage of memories, happy and sad, terribly sad, assaulted his consciousness. He felt like he wanted to smile and bawl at the same time. His stomach roiled threateningly. He crawled forward on hands and knees to where his wife lay, buried.
His fingers found the cold stone and he clung to it, trembling. 'I miss you,' he whispered, and his sobs split the silence as he broke down, convulsing.