Whispering to the Dead

Aragorn sighed as he set a wreath of white roses on his mother's grave, looking up to the sun with a pout on his lips. He hadn't expected to not visit the place in so long, he had let her grave become overgrown and riddled with weeds. His father didn't bother to visit so it was up to him.
He knelt down in front of it on his knees, holding his silence. A smile sat on his face as he debated on whether or not he should talk to his mother. She was dead, he knew, but maybe she was watching over him.

"I'm sorry, mum," He whispered. "I couldn't keep myself safe for you. Not in any aspects of my life."

They still thought it was strange that she'd never built something around her mother's grave. She undoubtedly had the money, and the resources to do so, she could build a whole church around the place, decorate it with gemstones and even build it out of solid gold. She could, and she knew it.

The fact remained that her mother was dead, and she wouldn't want any of the anyway. She had, at length, decided on a tombstone for Jet, one that stated his name and the day he died, but he did not get anything fancier. A patch of colorful flowers had grown before them, and she smiled at that. It was nowhere near an expensive garden, but it suited them both, and she was glad they were finally happy.

She hadn't been here in a long time.

Despite her thoughts on leaving memories behind, forgetting the person she was, she could never truly abandon them. They were her family, the only family who had never left her by choice. She owed it to them to stay, and so stay she did, even if it was in her new black ensemble and long hair.

The simple black dress she was wearing was expensive, borrowed from Ciar, but she wasn't thinking of that as she sat in the grass beside the graves of two of the most important people in her life. She hummed softly and smiled up at the sky.

It was a nice day to be alive.

Aragorn set a hand on his mother's grave, eyes soft as he prepared to leave. He would be back more often than before, hoping to pay respect to her as much as he could. He glanced down the row. Empty. He smiled and shook his head, wondering why he never tried to take care of the other graves too. It was probably devastating to be dead.

He stood up, whispering again, "I love you, mum. I'll come back to visit you again, next time I'll bring Danni, too."

He turned to leave when a woman farther away from him caught his eye. She wasn't much older than him and she was vaguely familiar. He squinted his eyes against the sunlight to try and see her. She was closer to the exit, he being in the H section of the graveyard. He raised an eyebrow and trekked towards the exit, secretly shooting a glance over at her. Did he know her? He felt like he did.

He got close enough to see her a little better and he blinked. Karma?