I always thought I had all the time in the world and the idea never occurred to me things would change. I was positive I’d always have Carol, I thought we’d be together forever. Time was going to wait for us; it would wait for me to get my business’ in order, and then we would have time for the rest of our lives. Had I known the big “C” was waiting around the corner and was going to ravage her lovely body and then steal her away from me, I swear I’d have done so many things differently.

If asked today, would I give up the corporations, the money, and all the success just to have her back, I’d gladly do it. I’d consent to be a pauper if I could have her back and she could be part of my life again. However, I’ve learned one cannot dwell on the “what if’s” or the “I should have of’s”! I know you move on with life and yet, more than two years later, I miss her more than ever. I say don’t dwell on the past; but if the truth be known, at night, when my dragons roam free in my mind; my guilt and sorrow is all consuming.

After Carol died, Saturdays were my day to spend with Carol. Allow me to explain; part of her gravesite consists of a large, chocolate colored granite bench, big enough for two or even three people to sit. This bench stands just in front of her marker, and when you sit on the bench; you look down on her. Every Saturday for the past two years I’ve been going and sitting on the bench and talking to her. Every Saturday I sit there sharing with her the week’s happenings, talking to her grave marker. I’m sure people thought me strange, and as eccentric as it sounds, I’ve always felt she was listening and understood. However, the entire previous week I’d attending meetings out of town and for the first time since her death, I wasn’t able to make my normal Saturday meeting. Instead, I had to visit her the next day.

My corporate plane arrived very late Saturday night and today, Sunday, was going to be my day to visit. I asked my driver Walter to stop at the flower shop and I picked up something for her marker, something I never do. We arrived at the cemetery, and I asked Walter to park the car in our normal space and I got out of the car heading towards Carol’s grave. Her resting place is just over the crest of a small knoll and has a nice view over the cemetery. Coming up over the rise I stared ahead and saw somebody sitting on the granite bench.

On OUR granite bench!

Someone was desecrating my darling’s final resting place and anger welled up inside of me. I started walking towards the bench, totally prepared to tell this person to get off what I considered to be “our bench”.

I stormed around in front of the bench and came to a stop, staring into two deep blue/grey interesting eyes looking up at me, set in a lovely face. The eyes were misty from crying, and she looked up at me with a startled look. Gazing at the charming young woman sitting on the bench my anger quickly seeped away. The surprised look stayed on her face and with a shaky voice she asked, “Oh ... how come you’re here today?”

Taken aback by her question, I queried, “I don’t understand; how do you know today isn’t my normal day to come and visit?”

Her face turned red with embarrassment, and she quickly stood, “I’ll leave.”

I felt like an ass because of the way I barked at her. I begged, “No! Please sit. Please don’t leave. Tell me, why did you comment this is not ‘my day’? How do you know that?”

Sitting down, she moved to the end of the bench, motioning for me to sit. She was silent as she gathered her skirt and long coat against her body. It was as if she was collecting her thoughts as well as her clothing. Finally, she began, “My Mark died a few days before your wife. I was here the day you buried her, and I saw you. I come here often ... to ah ... visit Mark, and I noticed you were only here on Saturdays. So, any day I come other than Saturday, I sit on your bench. Mark is buried behind us.”

I turned and saw the marker with Mark’s name on it, along with the date of his birth and death. I looked back into her face, and I was surprised about my feelings. For the past two years, I really hadn’t noticed another woman. I would speak to them every day at work, but today was the first time I was sitting one on one with a woman since Carol passed away, discussing something besides business. In the past, I wasn’t even interested in looking at another woman, but for some reason, this woman sitting in front of me caught my attention.

What I also found strange was when I turned back from Mark’s marker; I thought I saw something in her face. I hadn’t been interested other women; but that didn’t mean I wasn’t aware if a woman found me interesting. However, as I considered what I thought I noticed, it occurred to me it wasn’t possible. I was at least twice her age and why would she be interested in an old man my age? Especially somebody as beautiful as this young lady. I decided it was best for me to leave and I started to stand. I commented to her, “I’ll leave you to your privacy. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

She reached out, touching my sleeve and I stopped. “Wait. Please don’t leave. This is your bench and your place of solitude. I’m the one intruding. I’m the one who should leave.” She finished speaking and started to rise.

“Would you consider the idea we both sit here ... together?” I asked her softly.

She looked at me. I could see her deliberating what I’d asked and then she settled back on her end of the bench.

“Good morning. I guess we never got that part of our conversation addressed.” I smiled at her comment. I asked her what happened to Mark, and she told me about the car accident involving a drunk driver speeding the wrong way down the freeway at two in the morning. She went on to share her anger and her sense of loss, she shared so much of her past two years of pain, and I allowed myself to open to her words. It helped me realize I’d felt many of the same feelings she was describing. She asked me what had happened to Carol and after a few minutes, I realized I had tears on my face. I shared with her my pain and anger. I told her how hard I’d worked to create my business empire, but now she was gone, it didn’t matter anymore. I told her how much I wanted to do things differently and how I wished I’d spent more time with Carol. I didn’t know if it was the outpouring of my grief, or the embarrassment of sharing so much so quickly with a stranger, but suddenly I had an overwhelming need to leave. I stood, “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

“Please wait...” she implored. “Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, I have to leave.” I strode off to my waiting car.

Sitting in the back seat during the drive home, and for most of the next week, I found I couldn’t get the young lady’s face out of my mind. Her soft blue/green eyes, misted with her grief and her lovely face haunted me. Along with thoughts of her was also guilt; I shouldn’t even be thinking about another woman. Why did my mind keep returning to that sweet face and those beautiful eyes? And then the other fact occurred to me; I was at least twice her age and what was I thinking? How could I even contemplate anything with her considering my age? I truly was an old fool.

It wasn’t until the third day after seeing her I realized I didn’t even know her name. I found each time I thought about her, I was embarrassed considering the difference in our ages. I realize we only spoke for a short time and neither of us really mentioned anything about a relationship, but it seemed to me there had been a spark ... or was it just an old fool dreaming? I knew I thought about her a lot and wondered what she would be like ... and then the guilt would kick in, along with the feelings of what an old fool I was.

Saturday came and I prepared myself for my weekly visit to the cemetery. On the way to the grave, I kept fighting the urge to ask the driver to go faster, but I held my tongue. We parked and I sat for a moment, pondering if she might even be there. Sitting in the cocoon of the back seat mulling it all over, I was shocked with the realization of my feelings. The feeling I really hoped she might be there today. What was going on in my head? Why those few moments with her last Sunday had captured my imagination so quickly? Then I remembered what she told me; she didn’t come on Saturdays because she knew I’d be there; but I still had the hope she might be there.

Walter opened the door, and I got out and headed off across the damp, morning dew covered grass. Coming over the rise, I saw somebody sitting on the bench. My heart leapt and I was truly bewildered by the happiness I felt. I thought about it and I realized I was happier than I’d been in the past two years. Approaching the bench, she stood. “Good morning,” her voice sweet and musical. “If you wish, I’ll leave.”

Quickly I replied, “No, please stay. I wondered if you’d be here today. I hoped you might. I think we need to talk.”

“That’s interesting; I was hoping we could talk today as well. You go first, what did you want to talk about?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face.

“Well, first off, I’m sorry I ran off the other day, I was embarrassed I became such a crybaby...”

“NO!” She snapped as she raised her hand. “Stop!” She spoke with force and her voice was so sharp it startled me. She smiled to soften her words and continued, “You showed me how you felt; that was real, and I felt honored you’d share it with me. Forgive me if this is a bit forward, but I think it was the first time since Carol died you allowed so much of your feelings to show to anybody.”

She paused and I nodded. I felt like she’d slapped me in the face. It was true; it was the first time since I lost Carol I’d talked to anyone about it. It was the first time I cried in front of anybody and expressed my anger and grief. I could feel myself getting embarrassed again because I shared so much with a total stranger. Sitting there, somehow, she seemed to feel my embarrassment. I felt her hand on my sleeve, and she spoke, her voice, soft and gentle, “Please ... please don’t pull away! Your words touched me last week and I was surprised by what you told me. You seemed to express things I’ve been feeling but hadn’t realized were inside me. Thank you for sharing and trusting me that much.”

I smiled. It was time for me to confess. “There’ve been mixed feelings all week about last Sunday. In ways I’m embarrassed and yet I found being able to share everything made me feel better.” Let’s face it, there was no way I was going to share with her the rest of my feelings. I had no idea how she felt about another man, or anything along those lines, let alone the fact I was old enough to be her father ... or more. No, I was going to let things be. “I hoped all week I might find you here, and yet ... I was both afraid and embarrassed. Anyway, I’m pleased you’re here and we had a chance to talk. You know, I don’t even know your name.”

Her laughter was gentle, and I liked the sound of it. She extended her hand, “Hi, my name’s Amber.” I bowed my head as I took her warm hand in mine and told her my name.

“I know,” she colored slightly, “I asked at the caretaker’s cottage.”

“Why?”

Her face grew more flushed, and she dropped her head. I decided the gentlemanly thing to do was to drop it for the time being. To help ease the moment, I asked her to tell me some more about Mark. For a moment she brightened, and she told me how they met. She had a couple of amusing stories about the two of them and then I saw the light go out of her eyes. Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes and then run down her cheeks. “Damn it!” she cried. “Two years now and I still cry occasionally when I think about him.”

“Well, is that such a bad thing? You must have really loved him.”

“I did in the beginning.” She sobbed.

“And when he died?” My voice trailed off.

She lifted her lovely face, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shook her head. She lowered her face and continued to cry. I wanted to reach out and put my arm around her, but I feared any advances might not be appreciated. I reached into my back pocket, pulling out a clean handkerchief and handed it to her, silently thanking mother for instilling the importance of always carrying a clean handkerchief. She opened it and held it to her face. With one great hiccup, she settled back. She looked so down. In a voice as soft as I could, I spoke to her, “Would it help to talk to me about it?”

She smiled a brief smile and then in a whisper, “I don’t know ... I think part of the reason I keep coming here is to deal with the guilt I feel about his death. The night he died he was as drunk as the person who hit him. He had been drinking all evening. Our marriage wasn’t going well, and he’d started to drink a lot. I don’t know if his drinking was making our relationship worse or he was drinking to deal with how bad things were.

“I made some comment about something, and he struck me in the face, knocking me to the floor. It wasn’t the first time he’d hit me, but I’d had enough. I screamed at him to get out. He kicked me several times as I was lying there. Then he left, slamming the door behind him. I don’t know what I did wrong, why he was so angry; but it was my fault he died that night. I told him to leave. I knew he was drunk, and he should not be out driving around. I told him to get out of the house and it was my fault he died.” Again, tears welled up in her eyes.

Her confession angered me. The words seem to just come out of my mouth as if somebody else put them there. My tone was so abrupt it caused her to draw back, “You’re not at fault. The bastard hit you. Look at me,” she was looking at her lap, “look me in the eye...” I reached over and gently lifted her face, so she was looking at me. “No man has any right to hit or kick a woman. Perhaps it’s because of my age, but I’ve always believed that. A man has no right to hit a woman for any reason. You had every right to tell him to get out. You were protecting yourself! It was not your fault he decided to drive drunk! And it is not your fault somebody hit him in his car. You need to keep telling yourself it was not your fault ... because it wasn’t.”

Amber’s face fell and she lunged at me. Her arms wrapped around my neck and my arms encircled her body as if they had their own mind. I held her as she wept. Her face was against my chest and my chin rested on the top of her head. I could smell the fragrance of the shampoo trapped in her hair, she smelled fresh, and I reveled in her delightful smells. Gently I moved a hand up and placed it alongside her face, taking her head and holding it to my chest. I held her crying in my arms and I felt her finally releasing some of her pent-up guilt. Guilt she’d kept stored within for too long. She wept and I found I’d started crying again. Allowing me to experience her grief touched something inside of me, and I felt more of the pain, grief and guilt I’d kept stored inside for the past two years welling up and leaving.

I don’t know how long we sat there holding each other and crying. When her crying stopped, she looked up and I’ll never know why I did it, but without thinking, I moved my face down to hers and I kissed her. I was completely unprepared for her reaction. As soon as our lips touched, her hands went to each side of my face, and she returned my kiss with hunger and amazing passion. Her lips parted and I felt her tongue gently touch my lips, questioning if her action was acceptable. When I opened my lips, her tongue slipped between them ... probing ... searching ... exploring. My tongue reached out and touched hers and I heard a deep groan escape from inside her body. Suddenly my mind clicked, and I realized how wrong it was what we were doing. I gently pushed her away and she softly cried out, “No ... please don’t pull away.”

“Amber ... stop. Listen to me. You’re feeling venerable. That’s all this is. Besides, look at me ... I’m old enough to be your father or...”

“Do I look like I give a shit!” Her response held a touch of anger. “I’m sick and tired of all the expectations and rules and...” she gave a slight hiccup from her crying. “As far as I’m concerned, age has nothing to do with it. A person’s age is irrelevant. I thought I’d married one person, and he turned out to be something else. I don’t know what happened ... but he was my age, and in the end, I was ready to leave him because he was just a spoiled brat. A mommy’s boy who resorted to violence to get his way.”

“Amber ... I’m sorry, but to me your age is a factor. And I still haven’t forgotten Carol.”

Her voice took a firm tone as she continued, “I’m not asking you to forget anything or anybody. I’m trying to tell you, you’re an attractive man. I’ve watched you for two years now and I think I know a bit about you. I enjoyed being held by you just now. I really liked being kissed by you.” She paused and took a breath. The silence grew between us until she finally said, “Well, say something.”

“I think I need to go. I always thought Carol was my one and only ... and ... well ... I need to go.” My head was spinning, and my feelings were all screwed up. I couldn’t believe how I felt. I was so attracted to her. Yet, the worst part was her age, looking at her made me feel like a dirty old man. Well, maybe not that bad, but to me, her age was a factor. I stood and started heading back to the waiting car.

I heard her call out, “I’ll see you next week?” And it sounded like a question.

I stopped and turned back to look at her, “We’ll see.” I responded.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The week next week was difficult. There were a lot of problems at the company, and I couldn’t keep my mind focused. Every time I let my guard down, thoughts of her came flooding in and it was difficult to push them to the back of my mind. By Friday, a part of me couldn’t wait to see if Amber would be waiting on the bench; then the other part of me was consumed with guilt about those feelings. I still felt like I was cheating on Carol in some way; but the most difficult thing I found was the age difference. That feeling was presenting the most difficult feelings of all for me to deal with.

Saturday morning came and I decided I’d go to Carol’s grave and if Amber was there, I’d explain to her how I felt. I’d explain how things were and put a stop to anything before it really got started. Walter pulled into the parking lot, and I glanced around at the parked cars. Looking around, it dawned on me I had no idea what kind of car Amber drove. I chuckled about looking since there was no point. Walter asked me, “Sir, what’s so amusing?”

“Nothing Walter ... just something that occurred to me. Please wait here.”

I headed towards the gravesite and as I crested the knoll, I saw the bench was empty. Empty. Empty! The word filled my head, and I was sad. Amber wasn’t waiting on the bench after all. A deep sadness consumed me, and I was taken aback how intense those feelings were. I couldn’t believe how disappointed I was Amber wasn’t there waiting and now I realized how much I hoped she would be. It didn’t matter she had no idea if I was going to be there or not, it was she wasn’t there, and I realized I’d wanted her to be there.

When I got to the bench, I felt if I wasn’t careful, I was going cry. I slumped down on the bench and as I sat there, I started thinking about the strange new feelings stirring within. I stared down at Carol’s grave for a while and then asked out loud, “Would you mind if I started to see another woman?”

From behind me a gentle voice spoke, “I really think she’d want you to.” I spun around and Amber was standing there. “Sorry, I’m late.” She smiled timidly and continued, “I didn’t know if I’d find you here. I’m really happy you are.”

I stood up and was surprised how quickly and easily the words came out, “When I came over the knoll, I couldn’t believe how depressed and disappointed I was when I saw you weren’t here. I knew we didn’t have an appointment or anything, but I was so sad when I thought you weren’t going to be here today.” I paused for a moment and then continued, “I think we need to talk about what’s happening.”

Amber smiled at me, “I’d agree.” She stuck out her hand with my handkerchief in it. “Here, I washed it so it’s clean now.” I couldn’t help myself and I laughed. She smiled.

We stood there for a moment, both of us looking around and then she looked at me. “Would it be okay for me to ask for us to go someplace else ... besides...” Amber waved her hand towards the two graves and continued, “and share a cup of coffee or something?”

I understood her feelings and I nodded affirmatively. As we turned to head towards the car, the sun came out from behind a cloud, and I thought it beamed down on both of us. Something caused me to stop, and I turned back to look at Carol’s grave. I’m sure it was just the light from the sun, but the way it was shining, it appeared as if her gravestone was glowing and in that moment, I knew she was giving her approval. Carol had showed her approval that it was okay for me to befriend Amber.

The two of us walked side by side and when I looked over at Amber next to me, I was pleased to see the top of her head was just above my shoulder. I’m rather tall and I’ve always liked a tall woman.

Amber stopped at the end of my car, staring at the driver holding the back door open. She seemed startled, “This is your car?” she blurted out.

“Yes ... why?”

“I’ve seen it here before, but I thought it was a funeral car or something. I never realized it was yours.” She looked from the car over at Walter standing next to the door and then back at the car.

“Does it make a difference?” I noticed the unhappy look on her face. “What’s the problem?”

Amber shrugged her shoulders, “No problem, it’s just that the last time I rode in a limo it was when ... well ... the day of the funeral and ... ah...”

It occurred to me my car and driver were bringing back unhappy memories. I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her to face me, “Would you rather take your car?”

“No!” She said with some force, “actually, I think I want to ride with you in your car,” Amber gave me a little grin, “and then I will have a better memory to replace the one.” She was so sweet the way she said it, it felt as if my heart was going to break. I adored her smile; when she smiled, her whole face lit up and her green eyes would twinkle. Her smile made her face soft and warm, and I liked the way her smile made me feel inside.

We got in the back of the car, and I instructed Walter to take us somewhere where we could get a cup of coffee. We rode in silence for a couple of blocks and then Amber asked, “This is different than the limo’s they use for funerals, isn’t it?”

“Why do you ask?” I asked.

“This is a lot nicer than the other one I was in. I mean, look at all the wood trim in here and you even have a little desk there. This is not like the other limo at all. It even smells different.”

Her comment made me chuckle, “Yes, it’s a lot different. This is a company car; it’s made in Germany and is quite a bit more expensive than what a funeral home would have.” As I finished, Walter pulled in behind a small coffee shop located in a shopping mall.

We went in, placed our order, and found a table outside with an umbrella. Amber sat across from me, looking with an expectant look on her face. The pause grew longer and longer as I continued to stare into Amber’s deep green eyes. Finally, she grinned at me and asked, “Are you waiting for me to blink first?”

I laughed and shook my head. “No, it seems I have so much to say, and I really don’t know where to start.”

“OK, tell me why you were so disappointed when you thought I wasn’t there this morning.”

She went right for the heart. I was still working on that question. After some thought, I started, “I haven’t stopped thinking about our kiss all week. In ways, I feel it was wrong because I still have issues about Carol and I felt I was cheating on her, but I think I’m feeling different about it now. But there is one thing that hasn’t changed ... the difference in our ages.” She took a breath and I could see she was going to say something. I continued, “Amber, I’m at least old enough to be your father and perhaps even your grandfather! I have a real problem with that. Looking at you makes me feel like a dirty old man.” I grinned at her with my last remark.

Her laughter was sweet and musical; she reached out and put her hand on top of mine. “OK. How old do you think I am?” I looked at her, trying to appraise her age. I’m aware trying to guess a woman’s age can be a dangerous thing. She sensed what I was thinking and demanded, “I want you to be honest. Don’t try to make something up. Tell me exactly how old you think I am?”

“Guessing a woman’s age is dangerous,” I smiled, “honestly I’d guess you to be somewhere in your late 20’s ... early 30’s. Mid 30’s at the most.”

Amber beamed at me and squeezed my hand. “You are way too sweet. I will be 43 my next birthday. That makes me well into middle age at least!” She giggled with her remark. There was a long pause and looking directly into my eyes, she asked, “So what’s your problem?”

I gave a small laugh, “First off, you don’t look anything like what I thought a 43-year-old woman should look like.” She grinned and I continued, “My problem, as you put it, is that I will be 61 my next birthday. Look at it this way; biologically speaking you are young enough to be my daughter! Amber, you are a beautiful young woman, and I’m flattered you kissed me; but to be honest, I feel like a very foolish old man to be even thinking about you the way I have over the past week.”

Amber arched one eyebrow, paused and in a very soft voice asked, “And exactly what thoughts have you been thinking about me?” I could feel my face growing red as I squirmed in my seat. Amber placed her hand again on top of mine and squeezed it. Her voice was soft and more intense, “Tell me, what you were thinking about me?”

I could feel my face growing hot as the words stumbled out, “Amber ... ah ... this is really embarrassing. I was being foolish, I had thoughts about you men my age aren’t supposed to have about women your age.” I continued to fidget in my seat, “Now please stop with the questions. Besides, this isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about!”

She ignored my comment and continued, “Do you mean you had erotic thoughts about me?” She paused and I could feel my face flushing. Amber lowered her voice, so I had to strain to hear her. “Did you think about making love with me,” another pause, and she added, “The way I’ve thought about making love with you?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. What did she just say? I felt lightheaded and everything around us seemed to become very bright. Things were spinning in my head. I sputtered and finally asked, “What did you just say?”

“You heard me!” she laughed. Amber lowered her voice again and looked me directly in the eyes, “But since older men have problems hearing ... I asked if you thought about having sex with me the same way I have been thinking about having sex with you.” Amber laughed harder at the look on my face.

This conversation was getting very uncomfortable. Lucky for me there was a table between us, or she would have seen the front of my pants sticking out. Things were going way too fast, and I needed to stall. Taking a sip of my coffee, I stared into her beautiful eyes. Her hand was still on top of mine, and I still felt things were still moving way too fast. I had no idea how to slow them down. “Amber ... look ... I ... um!”

“Stop!” She squeezed my hand tightly, “I’ve watched you for two years come and go at Carol’s grave. The first year I thought I was losing my mind. I was interested in you, but I thought my feelings were because I was trying to forget Mark ... or I was trying to forget what I did to him. I thought perhaps an older man would be a father figure to me; that perhaps you could help me deal with my feelings about Mark. Over the past few months, I began to see I needed to move on with my life.” Amber paused and I could tell she was thinking over what she wanted to share.

‘I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me sitting on your bench. I wanted to talk to you, but I was afraid to say anything. I guess it was good we accidentally met the way we did.” Another long pause, “Our conversations have made me think and made me examine what I’m doing with my life. I have not been on a date since Mark was killed ... and I’ll bet that you haven’t either since Carol passed away! Am I correct?”

I nodded. She squeezed my hand again and continued, “I’m pleased we’re having this talk, but I think I’d like you to take me to dinner. I know this is a bit forward, but I want to see more of you.” As she finished, she folded her arms across her chest as if to say, “So ... there!”

I carefully considered what she had said. It was true; I had not been with another woman in any way, shape or form for too long. I was still puzzled about the feelings I’d had as I left Carol’s grave, but I was positive she somehow sent me a message she approved of Amber. I know Carol had heard me all of the times I visited her grave and talked to her about each week’s happenings, and I know Carol had approved of my budding friendship with Amber. Looking across the table at the lovely woman sitting there, I decided it was time to move on. I wanted to have dinner with her. Just maybe, I wasn’t too old for her after all.