A Short Story of Love, Loss, and a Lake Without a Plaque
Grief often lingers in the quiet places. It’s in the stillness of early morning, the soft lap of water against the shore, the silence where a voice used to be. For one man, remembering his wife wasn’t about grand gestures, it was about a small plaque by the lake, where they once laughed, talked, and cast their lines into the water. Over the years, that humble memorial became more than a marker; it became a gathering place for healing, just a man, his son, and the memory of someone deeply loved.
Where the Plaque Once Stood: A Short Story of Grief and Healing
For twenty years, the plaque stood by Lake Victoria. It was a bronze and simple plaque with her name and the words, “Loved beyond words, missed beyond measure.” It was his way of keeping her close.
She died young. Too young. And every weekend, he’d bring their son to that spot. They’d fish, just like she used to with them. The plaque was more than a memorial. It was a promise kept.
But time changed the small town. A new park plan. Clean lines. No "unauthorized memorials." They asked him to take it down. He didn’t fight. Just nodded, quietly.
Now, the plaque is gone. But every Saturday, father and son cast their lines from the same spot. No marker. Just memories.
And in the silence between words, she’s still there.
