Jean shuffled awkwardly in the grass maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should have at least brought Nico along. “Hey Marco.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand his eyes focused on the flowers in his hand. “It's been a while hasn't it?”
Marco, of course, didn't say anything.
“Nico wanted to come. I told him it was better for it to just be me this time. He didn't let down for a long time. He's stubborn like that. He gets that from me. You should have seen us with out you there to be the peace keeper. I'm always surprised he hasn't lashed out at me more. But as stubborn as he is he's so patient. He gets that from you.” Nico got a lot from Marco. Of course he did, he was their son. Jean was babbling, but when there was nothing to stop him he plowed on. “I look at him everyday and I just see you. I see your eyes and your soul, and his massive heart that he gets from you. I look at him I see us, I see my temper, I see all those bad jokes you make. God Marco, you need to come back to us and see it.
“You know, I heard him last night, he was praying. He asked god to watch over us. He was worried about me. Me! He wanted to make sure that you're okay up there. I can't do this Marco, How am I supposed to do this alone?” Please come back to me.
Jean took a deep shuddering breath, rubbing at his eyes. Look at him, crying. He knelt and placed the flower at the foot of the headstone. “I'm only half the man I used to be without you Marco.” Jean whispered running his hands over the words etched in the stone.
Father, Husband, Friend
“Nico misses you Marco. He gets that from me.”