Alexander had been visiting John's grave every day it seemed. Maybe it was once every week. He could not tell anymore.
He lost track of time, being buried in his work while his best friend was buried in the ground.
How Alexander wished the roles were reversed. John did not deserve this.
Death had taken him too soon. Death seemed to take everything too soon. All it does is take and take and take, leaving pain and bleak nothingness for the masses that soon mourned the losses of everything it had retrieved from the earth.
Pain was not a new feeling for Hamilton. He felt it everyday. When he longed for Angelica, missed Eliza, wished for his mother, repented his father, worked for his son, mourned for John. Everyday was filled with pain and longing.
Today being no exception.
All he knew is it had been two months since John had died and here he was, sitting by the grave with nothing in his hands. He had stopped bringing flowers multiple visits ago.
John loved nature and the world around him, even though the people were less than ideal. The sights around him had brought John so much joy.
Hearing John speak about it during the days when violence was on the shores, yet the men could not go out and fight just yet, brought so much brightness into Alexander's long days. John and Alexander would sit together working on documents or making plans for the future and sometimes John would just talk and talk about how he adored the changing colors of the leaves or how the dew on the grass would shine just right.
Alexander could not physically bring flowers anymore. It made him feel ill. John would have wanted them, but Alexander was selfish and could not bring them. John deserved happiness and John deserved better, but bringing beautiful flowers to his grave for his eyes never to see made no sense. It was almost blasphemous.
The grave was bland, just a gravestone and nothing more. Alexander always made sure to clean out the dead weeds or plants that creeped their way around the headstone in vines and tangles. They made it look dirty. John did not need a dirty grave as his last bit of visual representation on this ungodly earth. He did not deserve that. He deserved beauty.
Brushing away a few leaves from the edge of the grave, Alexander finally knelt down onto the ground. Alexander always made sure to wear pants that would be approved of for this sort of visitation, but not too lavish as Eliza could easily get upset if there was a single muddy smudge.
"Hello, John," Alexander said as soft as possible while his thumbs rubbed against the headstone to take away any form of dirt that could easily stain the white grave. "I know it has been a bit of time since I last came, but you would not believe the amount of work that has been occurring lately. I apologize this is later in the day than usual; it seemed the evening was the only time I could make it out here."
Alexander looked at his hands, rubbing at them visciously as if rubbing away the dirt on his palms could rub away the pain in his heart.
"I... I seem to be short with words today. Please forgive me," Alexander took a deep breath. "It is just very easy to become wordless around you. You always do tend to take my breath away. You take away my words, but somehow, you always know what I am trying to say. Eliza has not figured out how to do so. Maybe... maybe, it is only you that can do that."
Alexander heard the trees rustle with the wind, a chill forming. It is getting to be colder as the months seem to be getting closer to winter.
"Philip is looking very well these days, I can already see he will grow up to be a smart man, just like how you are."
Alexander wished John could see his son. How they could get along easily. Philip will grow up not knowing who John was and just that thought alone brought a pang to Alexander's heart. His two greatest men would never even know of each other.
"It is getting very cold these days. I suppose since it is late October that is to be expected. Sometimes I like to sit and think back on our days together during the winter. We suffered through that together, neither of us dying from cold. Sometimes I wonder if you died during those days, then this would be easier."
Deep in his heart, Alexander knew John meant so much to him from the beginning. No matter when John died, the pain would be just as horrible.
"We had only known each other for a short time, maybe this would not even be happening. However, I am happy it did not. I got to know you as my own mind, my own soul and I suppose that is why this seems to get harder and harder. Every time I come, I wish I came less. This is never goodbye, but sometimes I wish we never would have to suffer in the first place."
Alexander felt his eyes filling and he tried to force the tears back, but that only made matters worse.
"Sometimes, I just, I wish, my dearest Laurens, that we never even said hello. This hurts too much. This pain is something I cannot explain or compare to. I wish I was the one dead because it feels like when you died that part of myself had died with you. This, this pain. This pain is something I cannot seem to overcome. It is as if every nerve in my body is begging me to suffer and burn with sadness. John, you are the reason for my sadness and that idea alone makes everything so much worse."
The tears were falling now, Alexander's shaking fingertips rushing to stop them. Everytime Alexander came here, he had not cried or even thought of shedding a tear. This time, however, this visit seemed too final. Like, this visit would be the last visit for a very long time. That was an idea Alexander could not bare to think, to even comprehend.
"John, this is a pain that is as painful as a bullet wound or as ruinous as a hurricane. It is unsustainable, begging for me to succumb and let the hurt take over. You were my right hand man. I never showed it, but in actions rather than words, I am trying to show you now. You never have seen me like this, even in the darkest days during the wars. This time, though, this is a war I have to fight alone. The Lord above knows I do not want to, but he is forcing me to do this. I am forced to fight this pain without you."
With shaking hands, Alexander pulled his jacket around himself. The jacket seemed to be protecting him from the cold and Alexander wanted it to protect him from this anguish.
This infliction on his heart never went away, even after two months from receiving the letter that put Alexander's world into a downward spiral.
Alexander had been fighting this sadness, this pain for two months now. Eliza did not understand why her husband suffered so horribly. Alexander himself barely understood why this pain could never cease. The pain in his heart was a war on its own. A war that, for once, Alexander could not write his way out of or convince others to help him with. This was a war he had to fight alone.
"I need you, John. I need you here to help me with these documents. I need you to help me fight the good fight against these ignorant people. I need you to defend those in bondage and help them be free with me. I need you to meet Philip. I need you to speak to in whispered tones when the sun has set and all we had to share was a dark bedroom and minds full of thought. I need you to care for me in a way that no one else could," Alexander choked on his words as his tears continued down his face, his hands making a way to cover his mouth so he would not scream from the pain in his heart. "I need you to forgive me if I never come here again, John, please."
It was too final.
Maybe final is what Alexander needed.
"I'm so sorry for everything that has happened, my dear Laurens. I hope you know that I love you in more ways than just a friendship could," Alexander whispered, one hand leaving his face to touch John's white gravestone. "I hope you know that."
Alexander wiped at his damp eyes, already knowing they will be bloodshot when he leaves.
"I am so sorry this world was not good enough for you. I hope the afterlife is treating you better than anyone on this earth did. I will be there with you soon."
Closing his eyes, Alexander begged his best friend to hear his thoughts as he always did when he lived.
"Goodbye, my dear John. I have so much work to do."
