A/N: I know I should really be working on Wasted Happiness but this little idea popped in my head and wouldn't leave me alone. There really needs to be more Doc fics! So with that, enjoy.
He walks alone, his steps are slow, his eyes are sad. Slightly wilted flowers are gripped tightly in his fingers, yellow, blue, pink, her favourite colours. He walks down the worn path to an old church that beckons him with its massive oak doors. His old home where he has many memories; both good and bad. Ascending the cracked steps he leans down and places the flowers at the door's edge. Taking one last look, he turns away with a single tear rolling down his young face.
"Happy Mother's Day mom."