RIP
It stood there, strong and silent, just like him. Never speaking, but radiating its strength, withstanding the rain, the storms, and the cheerful birds singing happily all around. It was plain, small, almost insignificant in appearance where it hid between the grander ones; modest, as he had always been, for he’d never been the one to boast, or draw attention to himself. They made it simple, as he’d always made hIMself seem that way (although those who knew him knew he was anything but), but still slightly different, because he would always be the odd on out.
The flowers before it never withered, replaced almost daily as a declaration of all those who loved him. All those who lost him, but never REALLY would.