Billy Mason walked slowly past the crumbling granite shapes, heading to the newer section of the cemetery: where Annie lay, cold and alone. He was no longer so easily shocked at the sight. I'm here, sweetie... Just as you knew I'd be. It's the final day. Last chance to make good on your promise. A week ago he was at home, waiting for the dreaded call. Now he was in a graveyard waiting for his wife to rise up from the dead. "I'll do it, Billy. If I'm not back within a year, it can't be done." She'd sounded so sure.
He fingered the sharply cut edges of her name. "Annie Mason, Loving Wife. 1962-1992." Annie, the year's over. Where are you? Tonight has to be the night. He lay his head against the granite slab, trying to make contact, whimpering and falling into an exhausted sleep.
A soft, whispery sound touched his half-conscious mind. "I was right, sweetie. We do live on, but not in the way I'd hoped. I can't be your wife anymore; not like this. There are so many things I can't explain. But you need to go on living. I'm sorry if I let you down. I love you. And I miss you..."
He startled awake, lurching to his feet. What the hell was he doing here? He gazed at his wife's grave, a faint sense of loss touching his heart, but somehow easier to handle.
Good-bye, Love...he whispered and headed for home.