The weather was horrible. But isn't that what they always said about sad days- it's either perfect or not at all. The rain poured down in buckets and sheets, leaving the ground a muddy pool. Every step I took squished more of the mud into the soles of my shoes.

"If I die, they will at least know the last soil I stepped on," I thought.

It was a day of all days. The mist gathered around me, the clouds drooping low. All spirits were sad today- from the grim faces at the office to the pained looks passerbies gave me. I was walking alone. We all were.

It seemed like a million years ago you were made. But only yesterday destroyed.

I stepped, one foot over another, wondering about you. God, we'd all loved you. And now what? I don't know. The roses in my hand sagged, and I wished I could breathe the life into them. I wished I could do the same for you.

I've spent enough hours crying, so I keep walking and laughing. Our lives are too pathetic to realize it all and sit around crying, so we laugh at the failed attempts we make. It's the only way I know how to live.

But my laughing seems to come to a standstill as I glance up to the top of the hill. Everything stops. My skin races and I can almost see you. Almost.

That climb to the top of the hill is a horrid one. My body screams to turn around, my hands occasionally clawing at the earth to get a grip. Why was this hill so steep?

But it was also perfect. Only those who work hard will have the privilege of your presence. So I run, trying to reach the top. The ground below me seems to slip, and your face fades away.

"I will run faster next time," I always say. But every year, I don't. I can't. No matter how fast I run, you are still faster.

But you always were the better woman.

You dealt with Gibbs beautifully. Your relationship with Tony was adorable, and envious. The kidding way you acted around Tim was sweet. And around me? You were and still are my only best friend. No one is quite like you. But I'm not one to talk.

So I am reaching the top of the hill now. I look at the blood red roses, closing my eyes at the thought. Smiling and crying softly, I lay the roses down on your grave.

"Happy Birthday, Kate."