The Faithful Husband at the Cemetery
In a small town, local residents were deeply moved by the sight of a frail 70-year-old man who, rain or shine, visited a specific marble grave in the parish cemetery twice a day.Every single time, he would bring a single white rose, gently place it on the tombstone, bury his face in his hands, and weep bitterly.
His heartbreaking cries would echo through the quiet graveyard:”Why did you have to leave so soon? If you hadn’t gone, my life would be completely different…”
Year after year, the cemetery caretaker watched this heartbreaking routine.
One afternoon, unable to contain his admiration, he approached the old man and said:
“Sir, I’ve worked here for over twenty years, and I’ve never seen devotion like yours. The person buried here must have been the love of your life.”
The old man frowned.
“She?”
“This isn’t my wife’s grave.”
“Then whose is it?”
“My wife’s first husband.”
The caretaker stared in confusion.
The old man sighed:
“If he hadn’t died, I never would’ve married her.”
Then he placed another flower on the grave and muttered:
“I don’t come here to mourn him…”
“I come here every day just to make sure nobody dug him up and gave him a second chance.”
