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She's taken to writing diaries. It's a healthy habit, her mother had told her, but only as long as you don't let nostalgia take over. Kira doesn't know how to stop it, though. The sky's been threatening to break down into a flood for days now, and she thinks that maybe longing is all she's got left.
She runs her fingers along the engraving on the tombstone, thinks that maybe they should have cremated her father's body and spread his ashes somewhere. It just seems sad, that the stone tells that Noshiko and Ken lie together when Kira knows he's resting next to an empty grave. She stops that train of thought. Her mom's spirit is still somewhere --far from mortal boundaries, far from Kira's reach-- and she probably likes being able to visit her husband every once in a while.
"Lourdes..." she hesitates, looks at the flower between her fingers for a minute, "you know, Liam and Hayden's granddaughter," she clarifies, because she knows his memory had gotten more than a little weak. "Lourdes is pregnant," she finally manages to say, and the effort to keep her voice from breaking makes her smile look pained. "She sent me a video of her and her wife telling me the good news," she continues --the flower slowly turns from blue to pink as she turns it around and around and around. "It's nice to know that there's still people in Beacon Hills who remember me. It's nice to know you're still here."
She looks at her phone to check the time --she has to be at Lourdes' baby shower in less than an hour-- and for a moment her eyes linger on the screen background. It's a landscape --a picture she took during her years in India, about a decade ago-- with no people in it, no buildings or signs or anything that can remind her of the passing of time.
"I'm sorry that I don't keep pictures of you anymore. And I'm sorry I traveled through Asia without you. And I'm sorry that I haven't been to California in so long. And," she stops, swallows down a sob that's trying to push up from her chest. She can't really stop the tears, though, can't do anything but allow them to trace their warm trail down her cheekbones and make her words taste like sea. She takes a deep breath, "God, I miss you so much, Scott. This isn't fair. This isn't--"
The flower shifts back to its real form as soon as it's away from her touch --it's a small, yellow-ish thing, just a weed that she picked up-- falls on the grass next to the grave and is quickly swept away by the soft breeze. She never meant to end up at the cemetery (she doesn't know what type of flowers she would have bought if she'd planned to come, she doesn't know if there's any kind of gift or token that could truly express her love).
Lourdes hugs her tight, tight, tight. "Thank you for coming," she says, before kissing Kira's left cheek and slowly pulling away. She's teary-eyed, and her eyes look just like Liam's, her smile just like Hayden's. It hurts looking at her and knowing she's human, knowing she'll live even less than her parents did, knowing that there is nothing Kira can do about it. "Don't be a stranger, yeah?" Lourdes asks, and Kira lies that she won't.
The rain starts as she's driving out of Beacon Hills, and she opens her car's windows, lets the water wet the seats and make her hands slippery around the wheel. It'll be ten years before she sets foot on California again (next time will be just as bittersweet).