The sky was a leaden overcast, and the empty graveyard was cold and quiet in the chilly autumn air. Wind blew through the skeletal branches of trees lining the graveyard and they quietly clattered against each other. Dead leaves and bits of debris scattered hither and thither.
The years had not been kind on Mickey. He walked with a limp, and clutched a long wooden cane with his right hand. A greying insignia stood on his ripped and worn jacket. Wrinkles cross-cut his weathered face. His tired eyes peered out with a dull grey under the worn edge of his hat.
His boots crunched on dead leaves and scattered branches as he slowly made his way through the dense overgrowth, past fallen and shattered tombstones, and abandoned graves. He trudged deeper into the graveyard, where tombstones were sparser and the tangled growth of brushes and grass and vines was thicker. At last, he came to a halt, where the brush was thick and straggly, and the tall willow-trees wept in silence.
Mickey faced a grey tombstone overgrown with yellowing grasses and covered in vines. The well-worn inscriptions in the stone were almost indecipherable. He quietly removed his hat and knelt down to leave a small bundle of lilies on the smooth stone of the grave, before bowing his old head.
"I wish it didn't end this way. God knows why you had to die when I got to live." he began.
The wind picked up with a howl and the weeping willow-trees whispered gently in the breeze.
"It shoulda been me who took that bullet. I shoulda been the one to be bleeding out on dirt. I shoulda been the one dead." said Mickey, softly.
"You...you had no right in being so selfless…you shoulda came back...you should've been the one who came back alive..." he trailed off, sadly.
The grass rustled to and fro, and the branches of the trees trembled. The small offering of lilies on top of the grave shook in the wind.
"Remember all those times, way back when we would go down to the old oak tree by the river with Donald Duck and go fishing? Remember, the time we spent going to school together? Remember, at your wedding, when I was your best man? Remember, when we trained together and joined the same unit in the Army?" his voice rasped.
"Why...you were…you were…like a brother to me" said Mickey, breaking up.
"...And all I wanted to say was that I'm..."
"I'm..."
His lip trembled, and a lonely old tear rolled down his cheek and silently dripped onto the cold grey tombstone. The wind quietly died down.
"I'm sorry, Goofy. I hope you're resting easy." whispered Mickey, tremulously.