He stared at the carved, cemented ground for the longest time, before droplets of rain began to bathe him, under the cold and clammy September skies. It had been two years since she left him, after the seemingly never-ending battle that resulted with her defeat. Sean Forsythe fell down to his knees and started to whisper in a singsong voice, trying to suppress his tears. "I'd rather have bad times with you, than good times with someone new…"

She was his pure, untainted bride in her white wedding gown, his seraph with a diamond halo hovering over her crown. "For better or worse, till death do us part," the priest had said blissfully, in the small chapel where they were celebrated by close family and friends. "They were high school sweethearts," the guests had murmured among each other. Who knew that their first night would be the last night for them to be together?

HUDSON-FORSYTHE

TAYLOR KRISTEN

Beloved wife & devoted daughter

Departed this earth

February 19, 2002

At peace September 25, 2004

We'll meet again in dreams…

In his shabby sweater and stifled motion, the gravedigger skulked behind the trees and watched the young man from afar, waiting for him to leave. The blustery September day was coming to an end, as the cloudy skies began to fade. From the mesmerizing azure hue as her eyes, it changed to a myriad of colors – vermilion, fuchsia and violet – like his. As the tall, broad-shouldered wiped his eyes and arranged the sunflowers on her tombstone; her favorite, the gravedigger emerged from the shadows and began to rake the rotten leaves. The scratching sound startled the young man who was finally brought back to reality, before shambling away to the cemetery gates, where a black Bentley was waiting. "We'll meet again in dreams," the dark-haired man whispered as his chauffeur drove him away from his wife.

As the owls began to hoot and the nightingales sang their sweet songs of sorrow, the cemetery grounds were no less isolated as compared to sunlit morns. The Moon Goddess and her stars would keep on shining, yet the true enlightenment came from the one and only guardian of the dead. In the darkness, he was her constant, illuminating sunlight.

"Sean sent me sunflowers today. He remembered!" the young bride giggled, as she sat by her tombstone, facing the gravedigger. He nodded, and smiled. "Well, that showed how much he loves you, Taylor." He shouldn't have said that. He couldn't really see her expression, for it was hidden beneath her veil, yet the uncanny silence sprung shivers to his spines.

Her long, bony fingers traced the engraved words on the tombstone, while her other hand held the flowers, which by now, had withered. Still in her white wedding dress – torn; she strained her eyes as she saw the diamond on her finger. She was trying hard not to cry, but she failed in desperation. The gravedigger moved next to her and took the flowers away, before unveiling her visage and gazed at her compassionately. "What did he say to you now?"

"Sean asked for my forgiveness. It looks like he's going to marry another girl…" she trailed off.

"Well, it's time for him to move on, right? Don't you want him to be happy?" he asked gently.

"Yes…" she sighed, "but is there a way to make myself happy?"

Her pale, blanch white complexion was a total contrast to her cracked, blood red lips. God knows how much her tearless sobs would hurt deep inside her drifting soul. Still, her skin seemed like porcelain. Silhouetted in the moonlight, she was a broken, life-sized china doll, who needed someone to put her back together again. He had wanted to say something, but his own lips became suddenly dry, his tongue froze. He was captivated by her beauty; a departed soul refusing to leave her beloved husband. "I would make you happy," he thought. "But only if I could."

She leaned her head on his shoulders, taking his hand in hers. It was cold; colder than ice, that he was shocked from the touch. She surprised him. She had never been this close with him before. He realized, that this was the day her life was taken away, and since then, she spent her nights alone, within the confinement of her coffin. Until he came along. The gravedigger.

He was the one who dug her grave for the preparation of her funeral, and cleared the leaves on her tombstone every night. He treated his "clients" all the same, without wanting to dig deeper into their backgrounds. Until her. Taylor Hudson, the bride.

According to her, the netherworld was murky and formidable, until she sensed his presence. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," she used to sing in her sweet-saccharine voice. She once confessed that he didn't only provide her with enchanted enlightenment, but also warmth and security. He didn't trust her back then, for who could ever trust a wandering spirit?

He wasn't scared of her when she first appeared in her human form, wedding gown and all. He was petrified; yes, breathless; quite, but only out of enthrallment. She had asked him to keep her company at nights when everyone else was asleep. "At least one night, please?" she had pleaded with her puppy-dog whirlpool of blue eyes. A simple favor lingered to a conversation, which led to a fresh, blossoming friendship.

So she was revived, she broke free, and "have found a friend in thee," said she.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered, breaking the frosty silence between them.

"Fire away," came the reply.

"How come you're the only one who could see me? How come you can't see other ghosts?

He shrugged. "I have no idea…"

"How come I could grip your hand like this when I couldn't even touch Sean?" she cut him off.

The gravedigger let out a deep sigh and shook his head. The warmth of his breath tickling her skin might have startled her, for she pulled her arm away in shock and stood up. Her eyes widened. "I don't understand. I can't sense anything else but you. I don't sense the change of weather or the varying fumes of flowers, but I could feel you. Why?"

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Probably it's a sign. Probably I should just tell Sean that you're here. Probably the 'Sean-Taylor' dream will become a reality. Maybe I'm some kind of a messenger of the dead, or something…" he abruptly bombarded, trapped within his own momentum of thoughts. "But why me?" he finally questioned himself, crushed. He hugged his knees and stared into her eyes, exhausted.

She offered her bruised, bluish hand and lifted him up to his feet. "How would you tell him without making yourself look like a lunatic?" He mouthed a barely audible "I'll try," before resumed with regained confidence, "to make you happy." She beamed when she saw the sparkle in his amethyst eyes, and pulled him into an embrace.

He inhaled the scent of her tousled mahogany tresses, of dusty and faded tenderness, which reminded him of Death itself. He gulped and took a deep breath when she ran her fingers into his short, ruffled hair. It was blond – golden, like the rising sun. "Thank you, sunshine."

"You've got to help me, if you want me to help you," he murmured at the temple of her ears. "You better visit him in his dreams now. Tell Sean about me, and make him remember, if you want him to stay true to you. Only you," he said, before choking on his last statement. "You shall be reunited with your long-lost love. Trust me."

When they pulled away, he saw her eyes glistening. She was aware of his frigidity and lack of emotion, yet she couldn't detach herself from the fiery blood running through his veins, nor the increasing pulse and the beating of his heart. She simply could not take her eyes off his serene, contemplative expression, and his fair-hued hair that never failed to brighten up her gloomy nights.

Before she took flight to Sean's dream-haven, the bride decided to give the gravedigger a gift – an innocent goodnight kiss – of Life – or Death.

The sunflowers were long forgotten.