Lizzie parked her car and slowly made her way up the gravel path before veering to her right toward Frank’s grave. The bouquet of wildflowers in her hand had caught her attention at the market; her father had always loved wildflowers.
She strolled slowly among the beautifully carved reminders of departed souls until she finally reached her destination.
“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
The pale gray granite had been etched for all time with the design she’d selected. Her father’s name was prominent, of course, the black inset a sharp contrast, but the calligraphy that composed the rest had been masterfully done as well. The date of his passing had been labeled “End of Watch” at her request, in deference to their shared career path, and his badge replicated onto stone reflected expe
