Redhawk Caldera roses are yuge, violets are bigly

Of course, Whip knew Dad wasn't really one for flowers. But, the sentiment behind the offering -- that was something powerful. There was no greater beauty than loneliness and loss to Whip. It was such a pure, primal emotion. Yet, beautiful as it was, these troubled feelings carried the sting of a double edged sword. He tried to smile when his older sister attempted to lighten the mood, he really did. But, he couldn't.

"Yeah, but that's how you'd know," Whip said with a shrug. After all, some folks ate the things they liked. "That's just his way." Whip found it easier to refer to his father in the present tense as if he hadn't left. It was like pretend, and he could finally understand why Eljay couldn't let go of Peter when he had passed.

His attention was then directed to a paw print in the lose soil. Whip nodded and muttered, "Okay," as he slowly, carefully, pressed his own paw print into the soil next to his sister's.