'That's eight rows done ... I'll do another two and that'll be me for the day.' He was breathing heavy. The walking and the strain of trying to remember were tiring him out. He started on another row, Robert Hughes 1907-1979.
It was beginning to get dark. He was about to give up when he stopped at a small grave. It read:
To my Beloved Edith
1900-1947
Rest in Heaven
He couldn't breathe. He staggered back and then steadied himself.
'Edith ... That's her name. That is it.' he thought. And then he realised.
'Oh my God, Edith ... I've found you.' He bent down and touched the stone with the back of his hand, the way he used to touch her face.
'My beloved ... Edith ... I've been looking for you for a long, long time. How did you no help me find you?' He rested his cheek on the cold marble and started to weep. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. All those years without her had come to an end. He could finally grieve again for the woman he had lost so long ago. He looked at the plot again. It was covered in weeds, and moss had started growing inside the inscription.