Revisiting the Grief and Joy of his Past

This is just something I wrote the other day when I had some inspiration to write something, but no real idea what to do with it. Its somewhat short, maybe not that well done, and incomplete as well. I just felt like sharing it with the site becase...well, thats why I write things, so other people can see them. The character here is an actual RP character I have made in the past, and some people might recognize him. I dont use any names, so you all might have to figure it out. Like I said this work is not yet done, nor do I know when I will finish it, but I'll post the rest as I make it.

Along he walked down a steady path that was known only to him. The night around him was dark, and the path lonely and practically dead. His destination was a forgotten place, if it was ever even truly known to begin with. His head was bowed and his eyes heavy, yet afixed forward in the direction his feet carried him. As of now all he could see ahead was more path, and darkness winding in front of that, for he still had distance to shorten before he was to reach the place he currently aimed to visit. His somewhat long white hair made no movement with his steps, as such things usually did, as if every part of his body was currently in a solem state, not daring to appear lively or any such thing. One hand hung by his side, his left one, but the other was bent at the elbow to hold something against his stomach. What he held in his hand was a symbol, it being enough to tell any what his intentions were, and why he appeared to be overcome with such depressed indifference. In his hand did he hold a single flower, and just by the way he held it up against himself was it obvious that his current thoughts revolved around delivering that flower to someone who had long since passed the world, someone who's memory he desired to honor. His strides were consistent, never breaking pace by slowing down or speeding up, almost as if he was walking towards his own death, and had simply stopped caring one way or another. But this was obviously not the case, he was simply wrought with sadness at whoever this person was he wished to remember, and as most people in his situation, begged to return. The very area he went through was like a reflection of those feelings. Sad, lonely, and apparently dead on the inside, some people could say he looked right at home in the path he walked. But it was simply that, just a path. Eventually, he came to the end of it, and the path opened up into a circular clearing like area, where the surrounding scenery was at least somewhat more cheery. In the center and towards the back of the small opening was a single grave, and it was obviously makeshift. The grave in which he now stood above was a grave he made himself not horribly long ago, and he didnt feel any different now about who lay underneath than he did back then. He stood over it for quite awhile, letting his shadow fall over the piece of stone, just staring at the name while holding the flower to his chest for the longest time, repeating it over and over in his head, enough times to eventually make him close his eyes from the pain, but eventually reopen them. Eventually he was able to think about something other than her name, and got down on one knee, now looking at it more squarely. He closed his eyes and bowed his head once again as he sent a silent prayer down and up to the person whos corpse he stood over. It was a prayer of regret of their passing, of happiness for the time they spent together, of sadness for what they COULD have done together, and of hopefulness that wherever they were now, they were at peace. Finally, he sent a prayer telling of how he only waited to the day they could be reunited, when he himself layed down to rest for the final time.