It had been two years since God had died in the aging man's heart. Not only could he remember the day that it happened, but even the instant when belief disappeared and was replaced with a contempt that was unmatched by any man's hatred.

The day that his wife was killed was when the aging man knew that God could not exist. The God that the aging man had been raised to trust in would never let such a thing happen to him. The man had lived a full life, but this was not something for him to be proud of as he saw it. He'd watched his friends and family pass as the years collected on his shoulders and he only had his wife left in the world until the day that she too joined them.
Yet for some reason, the aging man still found himself in the old Lutheran church on Sundays. Sometimes he would ask himself what he was doing in such a spiritual place, but deep inside, he knew why he was there. He was there because it was the only place on earth where he didn't have to be alone. For it was at the church that the aging man sat and watched the grieving woman each weekend. Her tears would remind him that he wasn't the only one who was living with loss.

The grieving woman's name was Beth and she had lost her son one year after the aging man lost his wife. Her son was the last thing that the woman had in the world. Her mother had lost a battle with cancer many years before and her husband had divorced her when their son was only two. She used to tell people that 'everything happens for a reason'�, but wasn't even sure if she believed that anymore. Her son was nine years old when he went missing and there were many tears shed on his behalf. Though there were many who cried when the boy disappeared, only the mother wept after the passing of a year.

When he last met with the boy, a year before, the aging man felt completely alone in life and only after witnessing the mother's grief for her lost son, did he feel that he could relate to someone again. When the man's wife was killed, he decided that no human being could feel the pain and sorrow that filled his heart, but that changed when he saw the woman's reaction to her missing son. When he witnessed the mother's tears it was impossible to not be moved. He never knew that someone could feel as empty as he had felt for the past year and just knowing that he would never again have to weep alone on that day gave him all he needed in life. It gave him a reason to live and pulled him to the church each Sunday to watch the woman mourn. It gave him a belonging, and that was all that he needed to go on.

The aging man sat across the room from the grieving woman and watched her. He was dressed in a grey overcoat and matching slacks. He had worn the same outfit when he was younger and it made him look sharp, but after years had accumulated, the grey in his jacket began to highlight the grey in his hair and only made him look that much older.

The congregation had gathered in the narthex of the church and just like every Sunday, the man sipped coffee from a styrofoam cup while sitting alone. Sometimes the man would be joined by other members of the church who felt that it was their duty to make the man feel comfortable, but he rarely spoke to them. He much preferred to stay in his own world and reflect on the years that he'd seen.

This day was different than other Sundays though. While he dressed the same as always and sipped his coffee in quiet, it was the woman who made this Sunday unique for the man. He had seen her cry many times before and had even comforted her and told her that he would pray for the young boy; however, he omitted the fact that there was no God in heaven to hear his prayers. Through her tears, she thanked the man and embraced him in a way that only a mother can, but the two rarely spoke after their brief encounter.

On this Sunday however, the woman did more than just cry. The passing of a year was too much for her to bare and while she had been able to hold in her screams of emotional agony during services, she broke down after leaving the church's sanctuary. Her cries terrified the man and sent him deeper into his chair. It was so much more than crying.

He sat quietly as other members of the congregation tried to calm the woman. They found very little success though. They had not been through all that she had, and without experience they could only feel sympathy when what she so desperately needed was empathy. The only one who could give her what she needed to be calmed was the aging man, but he was too scared to approach her now that he had seen how overwrought with sadness she had become.
Her cries echoed through the old church and her tears formed in puddles on the floor below her. She wanted to believe that God would bring her son back to her, but after a year, hope was only holding her back from moving on and she had to let go. The aging man watched the mother and he was in awe by how emotionally ruined she was on this day and he no longer felt that sense of belonging that he had when it was merely tears that ran down her cheeks. He'd never seen someone so destroyed inside and before he could even finish his last few sips of coffee, the man stood up in a moment of panic and walked out of the old church into the crisp autumn air.

The air was thick outside of the church. Fall had descended on the town early that year and the leaves were already falling. They made the man think of how suiting it was to see the trees dying on such a sorrowful day.

The air did him good. It was cold, but far from being unbearable and he filled his lungs with several deep breaths to calm his throbbing heart before he began his journey away from the church.

The town was quite beautiful in autumn and the aging man spent a great deal of time walking the paths in the outskirts of the town during that time of year. He had walked the paths ever since he was young. He knew them all by heart and since the church was built near the woods, he often walked the trails after services. He did it to relax and to clean his lungs of the tobacco smoke that had built up so thick over the years. He quit smoking many years before, but had relearned the habit on the day of the boy's disappearance.

Rarely did the man ever have a destination during his walks, but this day was different. This day was a special day for him for the same reason that it was a special day for the mourning woman.
He promised himself that he'd never visit that place again. It was deep in the woods, much deeper than he normally traveled by foot and it was off trail as well. He put some thought into the fact that his shoes would lose their luster if he continued much further, but it didn't matter to him after he'd seen the mother cry that morning. He had to see it again and after a brief pause the man stepped off of the fading path and onto the moist, leaf covered ground.

For a moment the man felt fear run up his spine as he remembered the last time that he made those same steps. It had been a year. He had been terrified on that day and remained in a state of panic until he saw the mother's tears and realized that he was no longer alone with his loss. Stepping foot in the forbidden place for a second time brought all the horror back though. His head darted over his shoulder as the fear swept over him. Back and fourth his eyes darted in desperation, but there was no one around. He was alone, just as he had been before and so he continued to walk though the thick branches and black puddles that had formed during the previous day's rain. He continued on his way until he reached a point that only he could see as being different from the rest.
He looked to the ground that to every other man in the world looked just the same as the rest of the wooded area. It was scattered with leaves just like the rest and it was moist just like the rest. But the aging man was not every other man in the world. This place was special to him and he stared in awe. There was a single cigarette but on the ground, barely sticking out from under a leaf. He was back in the same place where he had been the year before and just seeing it made his eyes swell. He felt almost everything that the mother felt. He felt everything but loss. In place of loss, he was filled with regret. Regret that he had to feel so alone, regret that he had to fill that void and regret for the fact that he was reliving it all again.

The aging man stared emptily at the mound of earth before dropping to his knees. As he fell to the ground, his face fell into his hands and the man began to cry. And through the tears the man prayed there that day. He prayed to God for the first time in two years. He prayed for forgiveness.



QUESTION FOR THE READERS: Should I actually come out and say that the man is kneeling at the boy's grave? or is it clear enough from what is already writen?

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