Margaret and Henry were a couple who lived in a tiny town surrounded by rolling hills. Their love was both unusual and endearing. Margaret had been ill for a while, and it looked like her health was becoming worse every day. Despite the gloomy mood that pervaded their home, their love and sense of humour persisted.
Margaret looked to her husband one afternoon as she sat shakily on her sickbed, her eyes flashing slyly. If I were to… well, you know… die, Henry, how long do you think it would take for you to find yourself another wife? she muttered, her voice barely audible.
Though the concept broke Henry’s heart, he couldn’t help but smile at his wife’s humour despite the difficult circumstances. It would take until your tomb becomes dry, my love, he remarked, leaning in and taking her weak hand.
She struggled to stifle a shaky giggle as a tiny smile pulled at the edges of her lips. She whispered, “Promise me, Henry,” looking intently into his eyes.
Yes, my darling, of course. He said sincerely, his eyes filled with anguish, “I promise.
Margaret eventually did pass away as fate would have it as time went on. Henry, a man of his word, showed up day after day at the cemetery watering the ground where the love of his life was now buried. He used it as a means to stay in touch with Margaret and keep the promise he had made to her. It was a bittersweet routine.
Henry dutifully attended to her grave as the seasons changed and the days turned into weeks. He established himself in the calm graveyard, rain or shine. He watered the soil every day, his heart heavy but resolute in his commitment to honour his pledge.
One evening, as the sun was setting over the gravestones, Henry arrived at the cemetery and was surprised to see Jason, Margaret’s younger brother. Henry approached him, startled. My son, Jason, why are you here?
Jason turned to face Henry, his eyes tinged with regret. “Good day, Henry. I’m here to grant my sister’s request.
Henry’s forehead furrowed in perplexity. “Her desire? Why do you ask?
Jason indicated a watering can next to him. “Margaret advised me to visit her cemetery daily and water it before she went away. She emphasised its significance.
Henry’s expression registered recognition as a mixture of amazement and laughter swept over him. Do you mean to tell me that my lovely Margaret outwitted us both even in her final moments?
Jason shook his head and smiled slightly. “It appears to be so. At first, I wasn’t sure what she was saying, but — well, you know how she always had a sense of humour.
While crying both happy and sad tears down his face, Henry couldn’t help but laugh. Yes, my boy, she did. In fact, she did.
So, holding watering cans in each hand, Henry and Jason stood next to each other and watered the grave of a woman who had made their lives full of love, laughter, and even a posthumous joke. A fitting homage to a love that had transcended even the limits of life and death and a reminder that humour and love could grow even in the most unexpected of places, the sun set as they attended to the grave, spreading a warm, golden glow over the landscape.