I once met a man. His name was John, and he was 23 at that time. I was 10.
Nobody believed me when I said I saw something amazing. Maybe because I never told them what it was. But he did, despite the lack of information, and evidence. He told me to smile, for I was crying, nobody believed anything I said anymore, even if I did provide enough things to back my claims up. He told me to hold my head up and be strong, because soon enough, I would forget them, and they would forget me. I answered him, more tears streaming down my little face, "I don't want to forget you!" He just smiled at me, and eventually gave me a pat.

I had no relation to John, He was just a man who brought me home after I ran away to the nearby park. I was scared at first, like any other lone 10 year old would be. But not too soon after that, he had earned my trust. I don't know how, and I don't really care too much to be completely honest. All I remember is him talking to me on the swings, with his shiny badge on his collar and his fancy hat on his head.

No sooner that later, we talked to each other everyday, for two hours aproximately. I asked him about his life, and he asked me about mine. It was a friendly one-on-one talk, everyday, for 15 years, without fail.

He would come even if he was sick, because "I don't want to see you upset," he tells me. I rarely get sick, but if I do, I hide it from my parents and sneak out to the swings, where I know he would be waiting for me.

I knew he was always going to be there, waiting for me, waiting for a brand new story. I trusted him so much, and he trusted me. When we said our good-bye's every evening, I would be in tears.

And he would comfort me, like he usually would.

Then, suddenly I stopped. Work was getting in my way, and I didn't have time to drive to the old playground anymore. I told myself, "I'll visit it tomorrow." But I kept saying this line over and over, until it became a regrettable habit. "2 months have passed and I haven't visited it." I said to myself as I was making my way home, "Why don't I surprise him?" So I turned back and headed to the playground.

When I came, the sight scarred me. It cut so deep into me. I don't think I would forgive myself anymore. I was greeted by a crowd of people. Looking down at a grave. It was placed right under where the swings used to be. The Playground was a cemetary for only one person.

The people looked behind them, they locked eyes with me. It was pure awkwardness and sadness until a woman said: "He's been waiting." I burst into tears as I walked up to the tombstone, for it read "Here Lies The Man Who Had Waited, And Cannot Be Moved Until They Came."

I was struck with nothing but pure and utter guilt. Had he died waiting for me? I was afraid to ask, for it felt too impolite to do so. They had lost a friend, because of me.

I looked around the "Playground" in search of anything, anything at all, to offer him. I had found a flower that I thought had died. It was white, and it had an orange center. He told me that flowers like these were rarely seen. I just laughed at it, I thought I was silly how a flower could be so rare. I understood much better now,
it was rare, for it stood for something, white as in the kindness a person has, and orange as in the sadness they're hiding behind smiles and laughs. It may not make sense to you, but to me, it makes a difference.

I laid the flower on the grass. I quietly whispered "I hadn't told you my story yet." I heard people leaving, their feet hitting the grass. Shuffling awkwardly back to their cars and bikes. I sat down, I smiled at him, as though he was still alive, I told him all the different things he had missed, and how much I missed him. He was just 38. Too young if you ask me. I was 25. My heart hurt. I regret not having visited him. He meant so much for a stranger. He isn't a stranger now though, he was like an uncle to me. Like a teacher, his smile can fill the whole world with happiness, and he can cheer anyone up in a matter of minutes.

Having lost him is like having lost a father, a teacher, an uncle, it's like having lost a family. I stayed there for about 2 hours, when I decided to go. I told him I would be back, and it would be a promise.

His job is done. I patted his tombstone and told him "Don't get cold." as I ran back to my car. I started it and looked at the passenger window once more before I left.

I saw a swing, a man with a coat, a badge on his collar and a fancy hat, with a little 10 year-old girl. They were laughing, and they were happy.

I drove off. The memories still with me.
I smiled through tears, because that's what he was doing.

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