Dallas, Texas

Taking each step slowly, never in a hurry anymore, Bobby breathed in the warm September air, the smell of freshly cut grass and flowers hard to miss even when he wasn't looking to focus his attention on something other than his grief.

Things were slowly beginning to become routine, but not as he'd ever wanted them to be. Waking up alone, having breakfast alone, heading to the florist alone, and then to the cemetery to visit his wife and son had become a daily routine over the last five weeks, one he couldn't imagine ever breaking. He had other family, but he wasn't ready to see them again, to return to a normal life like they were probably living. Everything had been close to perfect for a time and he'd felt like the luckiest man alive, but in an instant that had all been taken away from him.

Approaching the now familiar site, considering the surroundings he thought nothing of the veiled figure when he first spotted her and it was only when he got closer to where Pam and Will had been laid to rest that he realised that the woman was paying her respects to his family too.

Hanging back a few yards, he stood still, wanting to give Pam some time to listen to someone other than him for a change. He was sure she had other visitors on a regular basis, the changing flowers were a material indication of that, he was sure too though that no one was quite as present day-to-day as he was, not that it was a competition, at least not one anyone wanted to win. He'd had only a few short months with Pam and no time at all with Will and that hurt, his family had been taken too soon and all he had left of them were memories, memories he was determined to hold on to.

Kneeling, the woman laid her hand down on the new grass shoots sprouting up, paused for a few seconds and then stood again, startling when she turned and spotted him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude", seemingly recognising who he was despite him having no idea who she was, she apologised for her presence, needlessly in his mind.

"No, it's a public space, you're welcome as much as anyone else", reassuring her she hadn't been intruding, he was reminded again that Pam had had an entire life before him, full of people he'd never met and would likely never meet now. He wasn't the only one grieving her loss.

"Thank you", offering him a weak, kind smile, she graciously accepted his words.

Aware of the pause following their exchange, he broke the silence, asking, "did you know Pam well?"

He didn't recall meeting the woman at the funeral, but he'd also been so consumed by his own grief that he didn't really remember anyone in detail; from looking at the woman he assumed her to be an aunt or perhaps a former colleague of Pam's. She was no older than fifty, probably younger, her veil shrouded her face making it difficult to get a good picture of what she looked like; what he did know was she had shoulder length brown hair and her face displayed a sullen expression.

Nodding slowly, she replied, "a long time ago", pausing and then continuing, "she was just a toddler the last time I saw her".

"She'd grown up a lot since then", unsure whether he'd ever seen a picture of Pam as a child, he appreciated that he and the woman had different perceptions of who Pam had been. He'd give anything to experience who she would have become, as a wife, a mother, and a lady but unfortunately there was no price he could pay for that.

"Yes, she was about to have a child of her own", looking wistful, she acknowledged the other great tragedy that had occurred; it wasn't just Pam that had been lost but their son too.

"We were", not wanting to make it about him, he still gently reminded the woman that Will's loss hadn't simply been Pam's to bear.

"I'm sorry for your loss", offering her condolences, her tone was sincere, but the words she used were nothing new.

"I can't believe I have to hear that so often now, it shouldn't have been this way, she was only twenty-three, and our boy, he was so small", upset by the turn his life had taken, he aired his grief more honestly than he'd intended to considering she was a stranger.

Catching his tone, she was silent for a little while, then quietly replied, "you're very right, and I really am sorry for your loss. I believe you would have made a very happy family together".

"Thank you", softening his tone, he accepted her sympathies.

"I'll leave you alone now", indicating her intentions, she stayed still.

"You don't have to go", not wanting to appear as if he'd driven her away, he politely invited her to stay, which she respectfully refused, saying, "no, I'll let you spend some time alone with your family".

"You're welcome any time, I know it helps to be able to come and visit", having done little else recently but visit, he was sure it was all that was keeping him from completely breaking down and while she surely wasn't as bereaved as he was, it seemed like the least he could offer.

"It does", appearing reflective, she smiled courteously and looked ahead.

Matching her polite smile, he let her go, catching himself a few seconds later, calling out, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name".

Looking over her shoulder, she answered his question and only his question, telling him, "Rebecca", and then continuing on her way.

Watching her disappear into the distance, he turned his attention back to the reason he'd come to the cemetery. Walking ahead, he kneeled down and laid the fresh flowers he'd brought, starting the routine he'd grown quite used to now, "good morning".

To be continued…