Beloved daughter and friend
Percy’s eyes scanned the three lines as he did every visit and inhaled a sharp breath. He sat down in front of the headstone, legs crossed with flowers in tow.
Just as he did every afternoon, he greeted her, and told her of his day. He was sure if anyone else came by, they would have thought he had gone completely mad. He wasn’t sure if that was far off anymore.
Midway through his ramble, he felt the usual tears prick at his eyes. Gods he missed her. It physically made him ache.
He’d never feel her touch, hear her voice, see those stormy eyes of hers. No more arguments, no more laughs, no more teases. No one to call him Seaweed Brain, and no one he could call Wise Girl.
His lip quivered and he swallowed hard, trying to regain composure. He knew better, though. He visited her grave every day for the last month, and every day he wept. There was no holding back, no matter how hard he tried.
Percy bowed his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. His fists clenched around the flowers as he sobbed, apologizes falling from his lips.
"I’m sorry, Annabeth." He choked,
"I’m so sorry."
I can’t draw tombstones. It looks like a rock.
Inspired by this drawing