"Life is a realm of endless possibilities. People meet, part, connect, separate, live, and die perpetually. Life is a gift, but also full of hardship. Beware of these hardships, embrace them, learn from them, but never lose to them."
His grandfather's words lingered in Alfred's mind like echoes from a distant, unreachable place. Even now, kneeling before the smooth marble headstone, Alfred could almost hear his warm, gravelly voice drifting between the gravestones, teasing, comforting, teaching. It was cruel how vivid a memory could be, yet remain so far beyond reach.
He placed the bouquet of fresh lilies at the base of the stone, fingertips brushing softly over the engraved letters: Martin Loms. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rain, hinting at a storm gathering on the distant horizon.
"You always said you wanted to see your great-grandchildren," Alfred murmured bitterly. "I should've hurried up, huh?"
A pang of guilt tightened in his chest. His grandfather had been his anchor, raising him when his parents couldn't, or wouldn't. Now that sturdy presence was reduced to cold stone and earth.
Alfred's eyes flickered toward his silent phone screen, knowing exactly what he'd find. Nothing. His parents hadn't even acknowledged the funeral, let alone attended. That familiar ache of disappointment settled into his bones like an unwelcome guest.
"You're angry at them," he admitted silently. But anger felt meaningless. How could he hate strangers, people who'd never really known him, who existed only as fading photographs in dusty albums? Instead, he felt hollow.
"Guess you can't hate what you never had," Alfred whispered aloud, bitterness lacing every syllable.
His hand drifted unconsciously to the odd marble-sized stone in his pocket. Warmth radiated through his fingers, a comforting yet unsettling sensation. Before dying, his grandfather had pressed it urgently into his palm, eyes wide with desperation.
"Swallow this once I'm gone." He'd insisted. Alfred scoffed softly now. Who would willingly swallow a rock? It seemed like another of his grandfather's cryptic jokes, the punchline lost forever.
With a heavy sigh, Alfred rose, brushing dirt from his knees, and cast one last lingering glance at the gravestone. The birds had quieted, sensing the shift in weather. It was time to go home.
***
As he walked slowly through the tree-lined pathways of Fremont Cemetery, sunlight filtered through dense clouds, casting flickering shadows over the quiet gravestones. The once-bustling Californian suburb felt subdued, muted, as if grieving alongside him.
Fremont had changed in recent years, a microcosm of global upheaval. The city streets held more electric scooters and solar-paneled cars, but fewer smiles. Natural disasters and economic turmoil had reshaped the landscape. Cafés were emptier, laughter rarer; neighbors smiled politely but didn't linger. Everyone carried invisible burdens.
Alfred reached the small house his grandfather had left him, nestled comfortably behind a modest garden blooming defiantly with colorful flowers. He hesitated on the doorstep, a lump forming in his throat. Flowers had been his grandfather's passion, each bloom a silent tribute to Alfred's grandmother, whose loss decades earlier had never healed.
The house felt painfully empty as Alfred stepped inside, keys jangling softly. Silence pressed in on him, reminding him sharply of his solitude.
"Okay," he said aloud to no one, forcing strength into his voice. "Food. Let's start with something simple."
The refrigerator door swung open to reveal mostly emptiness. Alfred closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Forgot the groceries again." His gaze drifted reluctantly to the garage, knowing his grandfather's car was parked untouched, gathering dust. He wasn't ready to drive it yet.
"Not today," Alfred murmured, grabbing reusable bags and heading for the front door again.
Just as he opened it, a familiar voice startled him.
"Whoa! Alfred, going somewhere?" Jiemes grinned, hand raised mid-knock. His dark hair was slightly messy, eyes behind glasses bright with friendly humor.
"Jiemes?" Alfred blinked. "I was about to get groceries."
Jiemes raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Helia's been texting you nonstop. Finally sent me over as her personal messenger. You're officially kidnapped for dinner."
Alfred hesitated, embarrassed warmth rising in his chest. Helia had always treated him like a younger brother, despite being Jiemes's real sibling. He'd felt guilty neglecting her messages recently.
"I dunno," Alfred murmured uncertainly. "She's been busy lately, hasn't she?"
Jiemes rolled his eyes theatrically. "Trust me, she'll be more upset if I return without you. Plus, you look terrible, man. Come relax with us."
The casual concern in his friend's voice broke through Alfred's reluctance. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed company until this moment. "Alright, fine," he relented, smiling faintly.
They climbed into Jiemes's small electric hatchback, settling comfortably into familiar silence as Fremont's streets rolled by, reflecting muted afternoon sunlight off glass storefronts and polished solar panels.
After a quiet moment, Jiemes cleared his throat hesitantly. "Hey…seriously, how are you holding up?"
Alfred shrugged, glancing away. "Okay, I guess. Just...still feels weird."
Jiemes nodded slowly, sensing the depth beneath Alfred's casual tone. "You know, it's okay if you're not okay, Al. We're here."
Alfred swallowed thickly, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, I know. Thanks."
The silence lingered, heavy but comforting, until they pulled into Jiemes's driveway.
***
"Helia! Guess who finally showed his face!" Jiemes called dramatically, opening the door wide.
Helia descended the stairs hurriedly, wearing pajamas adorned with cartoon rabbits, her black hair loose around her shoulders. She stopped abruptly, eyes brightening immediately.
"Alfred!" She exclaimed, warmth saturating her voice. "Took you long enough!"
Jiemes smirked. "See? Now quit nagging me."
Helia glared playfully, cheeks pink. "Keep talking, little brother, and you'll starve."
Alfred chuckled softly, the siblings' familiar teasing easing his lingering sadness. "Hey Helia," he greeted gently. "Sorry I haven't been around."
Helia waved dismissively, eyes softening. "Stop apologizing. We missed you, that's all. Jiemes, kitchen duty. Now."
Jiemes sighed theatrically, heading toward the kitchen while tossing Alfred a pleading look. "See how she bullies me?"
"You'll live," Alfred teased gently.
Helia nudged Alfred toward the living room couch. "Sit. You're the guest of honor."
He sank gratefully onto the plush sofa, catching snippets of Helia's quiet scolding and Jiemes's exaggerated groaning from the kitchen. Flicking on the news, Alfred's smile faded slightly as reports of yet another devastating hurricane filled the screen. Images of coastal devastation had become depressingly common, a backdrop to everyday life.
At least Fremont's inland, he thought. Not safe exactly, but safer.
"Alfred, dinner's ready!" Helia called brightly, pulling him from troubled thoughts.
The table was beautifully set, warm aromas of garlic and spices mingling comfortably in the air. Helia served generous portions, nudging Alfred affectionately.
"Eat plenty," she instructed firmly. "You're too thin."
"Yeah, Helia never worries about my weight," Jiemes teased, receiving a playful swat.
"That's because you eat for five people already."
Alfred laughed softly, savoring the easy warmth between the siblings. The grief he carried felt slightly lighter amid their playful banter.
As they ate, Jiemes leaned in conspiratorially. "Hey Alfred, planning on moving back permanently now? Grandpa's house must feel too big alone."
Alfred hesitated, pushing food around his plate. "Maybe. The university commute isn't bad. And being alone right now…" His voice trailed off.
"You don't have to be alone, Alfred," Helia said gently, seriousness coloring her playful voice. "You have us. Always."
A quiet warmth settled into Alfred's chest. "Yeah. I know."
Suddenly, Alfred felt a strange warmth against his thigh. He touched his pocket discreetly, feeling the stone vibrate gently. His heart skipped. Am I imagining this?
"You okay?" Helia asked, noticing Alfred's sudden quietness.
"Yeah, just tired," Alfred lied softly, forcing a smile.
Helia and Jiemes exchanged a quick look but didn't press further.
Dinner continued warmly, but Alfred's thoughts drifted again to the strange marble hidden in his pocket. Why did Gramps insist I swallow it? What's happening to me?
His unease deepened, though outwardly he maintained calm. After dinner, he quietly excused himself to the restroom, locking the door behind him.
He fumbled the stone from his pocket, holding it up under the soft bathroom light. It was warm, too warm, and oddly inviting. His throat went dry. For the first time since receiving it, Alfred felt a strange, irresistible urge to do exactly what his grandfather had said:
Swallow it.
His reflection in the mirror looked pale, anxious. This is ridiculous. Why am I even considering it?
But the stone seemed to pulse stronger, insistent, almost begging to be consumed. His fingers trembled.
A knock at the door startled him sharply. "Alfred?" Jiemes's voice sounded concerned. "Everything alright in there?"
Heart racing, Alfred shoved the stone back into his pocket quickly. "Yeah, be right out."
***
He returned to the living room quietly, unsettled but forcing composure. Helia's smile eased some tension. "Come sit. We were just about to start dessert."
Jiemes laughed heartily. "Please do, so she'll finally stop pestering me!"
Helia rolled her eyes, softening her voice. "Just shut up and eat."
Alfred looked down at his plate, heart feeling a bit lighter. The grief and tension still lingered, but warmth, friendship, and simple kindness slowly filled the emptiness inside.
Dinner was warm. Not just in taste or temperature, but in presence.
Helia's cooking filled the kitchen with rich, savory aromas that reminded Alfred of simpler days, days when the three of them would gather after school, flopped around the kitchen table, talking over each other while his grandfather quietly tended the flower beds outside. He used to grumble about noise, but Alfred always caught him smiling when he thought no one was looking.
As Helia cleaned up, Alfred wandered briefly out to their small backyard, where the sun had dipped beneath the rooftops. Twilight painted the clouds in violet streaks, and the garden lights glowed faintly through tangled vines and clay pots. Crickets had just begun their nightly chorus.
"Alfred?" Helia's voice drifted from the back door, soft with concern.
"I'll be there in a minute," he replied gently.
He stood there in the dusk, breathing in the scent of soil and cut grass, letting the quiet settle inside him. His fingers absently brushed against the stone in his pocket. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, but tonight, he ignored it.
Instead, he closed his eyes and let a memory return.
His grandfather's voice, quiet and steady, like it always was during their late-night talks on the porch:
"Life is a realm of endless possibilities…"
Those words, once just a saying, now rang with something deeper. A truth he wasn't sure he fully understood yet.
Alfred opened his eyes and smiled softly to the night.
Whatever was coming, whatever the future held, he would face it.
Just like Gramps taught him.