DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, no matter how much I wish I did.
She takes a step forward.
She breathes in the sweet aroma of the flowers that surround her.
She feels the grass between her toes, the longer blades brushing at her ankles, and the cool, soft mud underneath her feet.
She hears voices being carried in the wind, the creaks of the ancient, wide, tall trees that are spread around the area.
She can taste the ocean, the salty breeze the blows past her, the one that carries the voices.
She looks at the clear blue sky and sighs, wondering why there aren't grey clouds overhead on this mournful day.
She stops in the spot she visits at least once a month.
She stares out over the cliffs and watches the people on the shore, the families, the couples, the waves crashing onto the sand.
She listens and hears the laughter and splashing, the happiness and joy on the air, blowing up to the cliffs on the wind, and smiles. She remembers what it was like to be one of those families.
She grips the fabric of her dress, the one that meant so much to her, and still does. The silky smooth feel on her fingers, the dress that she used to caress when they were on the beach; that the kids would pour water over with buckets from the ocean.
She breathes in the ocean and remembers the first day she brought the kids down here and their reactions to the scent of the water, the way their faces lit up as they raced towards the beach screaming and yelling, before running back towards her because the water was too cold.
She tastes the salt in the air and remembers once more the kids first day at the beach when the youngest swallowed some water. Watching as she ran up to them, tears in her eyes because she had never swallowed sea water before, and she wasn't expecting it.
She turns round and picks some flowers; blue, purple, pink, red. She gets back in the car and drives along the same road she takes once a week. Once she gets out the car she walks through the rows and stops right where she needs to. She places the flowers out, the blue ones to her wife, the purple to her eldest daughter, pink to her youngest and red to her son.
She can smell the freshly mown grass and the other flowers that she can see tenderly placed down.
She pulls out the mint chocolates that they use to enjoy down on the beach, on picnics, anywhere they fancied and places one in her mouth. The taste brings back many memories, great memories.
She can hear other people talking to their loved ones, and she begins to talk to hers, wishing they could hear her.
She sees the beautiful lake that is right behind them, its crystal blue water shimmering in the sunlight.
She places her hand on the smooth stone, and runs her hand across the name, affectionately kissing it before moving to the next, and repeating the process.
She sits there in front of her family's graves for a few hours, sometimes talking, sometimes peaceful. It's been four years since the car crash that tore them from her life, but she knows, she knows in her heart that they are in heaven watching over her. She eventually stands up, wipes the tears from her eyes, the ones that didn't stop running for the last few hours and gets back into her car. She drives back to her cold, lonely empty house and turns on all the lights. She turns off the lights in the kid's rooms, and her wife's lamp. She puts on one of her old shirts and grabs the three toys she sleeps with, only on this night, one from each child. She crawls into her bed, quietly sobbing into her pillow. Tomorrow she will get up and go to work, just like any other day, today just one of the other memories she stores in the vault of her mind, the ones she will treasure for the rest of time.