Last Words

A drabble from 101 Ways To Love and Give Love and a spin-off of Flight of Fantasy.

The garden was in full bloom as flowers surrounded her with vivid colors and sweet smells. She could feel the ache in her bones as her knees bent. However, she couldn't resist plucking one of the flowers and bringing it to rest behind her ear. Her fingers brushed against the petals lightly in fear that any of them would fall and ruin the magic. The sweet and comforting smell of honeysuckle filling her senses as she stood to her full height and continued her walk through the garden.

Her footsteps were slowed by age in comparison to the hurried ones that followed behind her. Soft panting was heard among the bird song and she glanced over her shoulder with a soft smile. A little girl no older than ten stood there with her hands clasped against her knees while trying to catch her breath.

"Grandma," Isabella called as she waved to garner her attention. "What are you doing out here?"

Isabella stood to her full height and stared at her with blue eyes. Eyes so blue that they could rival the color of the sky and sea. Light shined in her eyes, mirth that could only belong to a child, and kindness as well. Her curly dark brown hair fell over her shoulders and matched her bronze-toned skin dusted with freckles.

She was small but when she stood up it was hard to ignore her presence. A trait that she inherited from both of her fathers, her grandmother sighed, and perhaps her grandfather as well.

"Spending time with your grandfather."

Her granddaughter's eyes widened by a fraction only for her to regain her composure. Though it showed in the way that she dug her heel into the dirt and fiddled with the hem of her vest.

"It's okay," she reassured with a fleeting glance to the heart of the garden. Her heartbeat dulled the sound of birdsong as she trained her gaze on the plaque. Even if she couldn't read the words from where she stood, they were ingrained in her heart. Small fingers laced with her own and she sucked in a breath.

"Papa doesn't talk about him," Isabella told her. "Dadi doesn't either."

A dull throb brought her back to reality and she could imagine her only son's face when confronted with talk of his father. His jaw set, eyebrows furrowed and eyes averted so no one could see the lack of acknowledgement or knowing. His husband wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning down to whisper something in his ear. Perhaps it was words of encouragement or a promise of reassurance because her son's face would soften as their eyes met and all would begin anew.

"He never knew his father."

Isabella's grip slackened and her grandmother held on a little tighter. She'd been trembling at the thought because even after thirty-five years, her heart wasn't able to let him go. His death was impromptu but so was everything else in life. When it'd come, she held strong and moved on with her life as she raised two wonderful children who reminded her of him in every way. Her children grew into adults and had children of their own.

"Can you tell me about him?"

Her granddaughter's voice roused her and she glanced down with wide eyes. Isabella stared forward with determination in her voice. The lack of shyness and increased interest made her grandmother's heart feel as if it was going to burst. She couldn't help the smile that stretched from ear to ear. Together, they strode further into the garden until they reached its heart where the plaque rested. Her trembling returned but Isabella's grip was a comforting reminder of where she was and how far she'd come.

Clive Fabiano

"Live your life and keep believing."

The phrase made her eyes water and she tried to keep her voice even as she began.