[ WP ] Death usually separates people . But in this case , Death got them together .

I saw her across lawns lush with life. Flowers and grass bloomed with replendant colour all about, as growth rampantly flourished in this most dampened of atmosphere's. 
 
 Dressed in black she stood, face sombre, nonetheless she was beautiful; a lily of perfection amidst a sea of despair, floating on top of the waves with shape unchanging, and perfection unyielding. 
 
 I placed her at about 25 years old, a woman in the fullest of bloom before the age captured her looks, and the petals began to fall. Eyes of deepest blue, with golden hair cascading like a waterfall over a dress of black, my young mind was toppled. 
 
 I was smitten, and I nervously flicked my eyes at her above this collection of mourners, this group of discontent. I saw her eyes flick back, once or twice, and my heart leapt. 
 
 I was in turmoil. I did not know the connection she had with the person whose body had been lowered into the ground, my grandfather, my Pops. This was not the place for such things; the funeral of your mother's father was no place to be eyeing up ladies. My mind was not on the grieving task at hand though, and it could not be distracted, just one more quick glance at her. Just one more. My grandfather would not have minded, I can picture his wry old smile now if he'd have known. 
 
 Later on, in a collection of downcast eyes and mumbled sincerities, we talked. I liked her, and I inwardly grinned as I saw her stifle laughs as we spoke; after all, this was not the place for such things. 
 
 We agreed to meet, and over dinner she revealed that she had been a nurse for my grandfather. She did n't always go to the funerals of her patients, but they had been friends at the end, and she had cried softly as she held his hand, watching him slip in and out of life in the early hours of the morning, as his family slept in their beds, warm and snug. 
 
 My sadness caught me then, seemingly on hold since the funeral, and she smiled softly as my eyes began to well. This was not the place for such things. 
 
 Afterwards the conversation turned, and we laughed until the early hours of time, two young people, tending earth to see what might yet grow. 
 
 I like her, and I think that she likes me. We are meeting up again soon. 
 
 If my grandfather had n't shown her kindness, and friendship, perhaps this would not be. I suppose there's a lesson in there really; you never know the outcome of what you do, and ripples can spread long after the stone has sunk. 
 
 Thank you grandfather, for being the man you were. 
 
 Thanks Pops.
