Happy 28th Birthday

He walked slowly to the large stone, hand in hand with his wife. They both stood, the silence ringing in the air, as if to calm them, rather than make them anxious. She held a bouquet of white roses, their fragrance floating in the soft breeze. The man spoke first, his voice, normally outspokenly loud and sarcastic, was unusually quiet,
“Hey bud.”
The trees on the boundary of the fences rustled their leaves, as if to respond to the unobtrusive greeting. He stood for a moment, not completely sure of the full reason of returning to a place that was known for sadness. His wife put her petit arm around his large frame, but the act of comfort only made him more uncomfortable. He stared blankly at the grey slab, his eyes dragging across the words that cut harshly into the stone.
“You’d be 28 today.” He said absently.
He breathed deeply and continued, “I miss you, bud. You’d love what we’ve done though. You’ve affect the lives of more people than you could ever imagine.”
His voice wavered, “I-, I know you’re in a better place.” His tore his eyes away from the stone and looked into the face of his wife. Tears were gently flowing down her rosy cheeks. She held the roses tightly in here right hand, as he pulled her into a hug.
They embraced for a moment, and pulled away as the man let out a shaky breath. His wife held out the roses to him, and he took them from her.
He looked towards the grey, clouded sky and said a silent prayer for his departed friend. Suddenly, fat tears welled up in his eyes, the tears he’d been harshly holding in all day flowed freely down his face. Rarely did he ever cry, but as he slowly kneeled on the well-kept grass, he found it hard to hold back the sobs rising in his throat. He gently placed the white roses on the stone and bowed his head in respect,
“Happy Birthday, Rick.”