[ WP ] A little girl helps her neighbor overcome his vow of silence he made after his wife passed away 40 years ago .

[ WP ] 
 Graham simply stood and stared. His rheumy eyes flickered back and forth as he surveyed the damage. He had thought he was past any new hurts, and yet here he was, heart-broken once more. 
 
 The wind was cold on his face, and his toes numb in their old scuffed up slippers, and yet he remained standing still as the statue that lay in pieces on his lawn. 
 
 It was those damned Richard ’ s boys, Betty, he spoke silently to the wife who had died so long ago. The wife whose memory and beauty he had longed so desperately to immortalize with this statue. Those damned boys and their ball games. 
 
 He shuffled forward, his knee aching as he eased himself to kneel on the perfectly tended and clipped grass. One trembling hand reached for the age-greyed hand that now pointed to his rhododendrons. 
 
 “ I ’ m really, really sorry, ” came a tiny whisper from behind him. 
 
 Graham blinked as he took the statue ’ s delicate hand from the ground and cradled it against his woollen cardigan, holding it gently against his heart. 
 
 As he laboured to rise, the old man belatedly noticed the rusty yellow cart that stood a few feet from the head of his wife ’ s statue. 
 
 “ I only came to get my Frisbee, I didn ’ t mean to hurt her, ” the voice came again, shy and terrified and shaking. 
 
 “ The cart got stuck on the corner and she fell over and broke. My daddy could fix her; he has got lots of glue. ” 
 
 She sounds just the way our Ruthie sounded, Betty, Graham silently told the dainty hand he sheltered at his chest. Just the same. 
 
 “ She ’ s so pretty. Like an angel. ” 
 
 Graham frowned and rubbed his arm as he turned finally to the little girl. There she stood a little way off, her hair burning in the afternoon sunlight, her blue eyes brilliant as she regarded him, her perfect features sombre. A green ribbon tied around her gauzy dress fluttered in the breeze. 
 
 She reminds me of… Of… The old man sighed and rubbed at his arm, irritated by the sudden new pains in his body at this time of grief. How long had this statue stood in their yard, here where they had spent so much wonderful time together, planting their flowers and trees, raising their beautiful children? Betty, she reminds me of… 
 
 “ Is she an angel? ” the little girl asked, her eyebrows raised. Graham could see now that she held the Frisbee behind her back. 
 
 He had collapsed onto his knees before he realised anything was seriously amiss. As he landed with a jolt, the hand he had clasped so tenderly dropped from his juddering hands. Clutching his chest, Graham stared at the finger that had snapped in its fall. 
 
 “ An angel, ” he managed to stutter before he toppled onto the grass, lying broken beside his broken monument. 
 
 Wide-eyed, the little girl stared for a horrified moment, and then she dropped the Frisbee and ran for her mother. 

