Mr. Anderson was an elderly man who visited his wife’s grave every day for the past 3 years since she’d died.
Over time he’d become our unofficial security guard, calling in whenever he saw something that he didn’t like. Some perceived him to be a bit gruff, but he was blunt and crass…maybe that’s why I liked him so much.
Sometimes I’d see him when I was heading out to eat and we’d chat from time to time. Usually about the weather, or the snacks he’d brought for lunch.
Finally, I decided to ask him.
“ Mr. Anderson, why do you come every day to visit? Do you think she knows that you’re here?”
“Not at all.”
“Isn’t it kind of pointless to visit so regularly, if she doesn’t know you’re here?”
“Yeah, but I know, and that’s what matters.”
He died a few months later, and was buried next to his wife. Whenever I have a few moments to spare, I’ll stop by. He doesn’t know I’m there but I do.
That’s what matters.