Portraits on the Altar

         They never met, but they did bring us together.

         It was the Saturday before Easter. I was at the cemetery putting flowers on my father’s
grave. She was a few graves over putting flowers on her father’s grave. She was dressed
in blue jeans and a dark blue shirt. In the morning light her blond hair shined, it made her look like an angel.

         “It really is beautiful here, don’t you think” she said to me.

         “Yes, quite peaceful.” I said

         “Is this your father?”

         “Yes, he passed away just this winter.”

         “Pappy died last July. He suffered so much, he had cancer”

         She went back to her work arranging the flowers. I went back to father’s grave and put a
new flag over his stone. When I looked back she was gone.

         I was back at the cemetery on June Tenth, Father’s birthday. It was a rainy chilly day. I
planed to put the flowers out and go. Nothing more depressing than a grave yard on a rainy day. There she was with new flowers in her arms. she put half of them on her father’s grave and came over to me.

         “I brought your father some flowers, for his birthday.” she said.

         “Thank you they’re beautiful”

         Just then there was a crack of thunder and it started to rain very hard.

         "Would you like to go to the dinner down the road for a cup of coffee?” she asked.

         We sat there most of the morning. A cup of coffee turned in to an early lunch, then we
decided to take in the matinee at the movies. After dating for about a year, I asked her to
marry me.

         So today as I stand here watching her in her white gown coming down the aisle, the
portraits of her father and mine deserve their place on the altar. After all they brought us
together.