One last time (Five minutes freewrite)

The whole thing had a bad vibe to it. Why would Dad want to visit his wife's grave all of sudden? Like he had some sort of premonition that the time has come to join her. The past three months since the fall had been tough for all of them, but mostly for him. At first, it had been odd for her, too, having to feed and clean him - that strong intelligent man reduced to a helpless baby state. She did her best to be quick about it, not because she was squeamish, but because it was painful to see him so robbed of his independence, of his privacy.
But the old man was strong and now that he was back on his feet, this sudden urge to go to the cemetery. At first, she'd thought the old man was confused, why visit the cemetery in October, when Mom's birthday was in June? She'd mentioned her concern to Paul, but he said she should humor him. 'They'd been together for thirty years, he just misses her, that's all. And stop worrying so much'. That was Paul's gentle way of saying there's no such thing as premonitions.

When she arrived at his house, the old man was already dressed. He'd put on his best suit, with the pearly tie and his shoes were shining. God knows how much he must have worked on those!
His frailty was so painfully obvious, but she pretended to be busy looking for something in her purse, just to give him enough time to walk to the car on his own. The pain in the hip was gone, but he'd taken to using the cane Mom had used in her final months.
'This is something I need to do on my own', he said when they got to the cemetery and she'd locked the car, ready to go with him inside. No use protesting. She watched him shuffle his feet to the little flower shop, just beside the gate, trying hard not think this might be the last time he walks in on his own feet.

It'd been over an hour and she was getting worried. There were fresh geraniums in the marble vase at their family plot, but no sign of Dad. It wasn't such a big place, she was sure she was going to find him on her own, no need to make a fuss. She went up and down each alley, until she saw him resting on a bench, in the old part of the cemetery where most graves had been abandoned for years. He stood up as soon as he saw her and took hold of her hand, as if he was the one leading her. Not before looking back once more at the forgotten graves. It was impossible to tell whom they belonged to, the letters on the marble slabs having been washed away by decades of rain and snow. There were yellow roses on top of one of them.

Image source: Pixabay

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: yellow. New prompt every day. Check out her blog.