Gone but never forgotten

As our Brother fell, in the mist of battle, we knew that he would be granted honour and eternal peace. There was nothing we could do, we had to keep fighting, the world was counting on us but we would never leave him behind. We will bring him home, to his family, to his battle brothers and we will honour his life and his great deeds. The fighting does not end, it will never end. We only wish to make a difference, to help the people. We seek more than honour, we seek change and we know that change, sometimes, must come from violence.

Back home, two men walk up the drive of a cookie cutter home, dressed in their DEUs. Before they knock on the door, the men square their shoulders as they swallow hard. They pray that this would be the last time. They have knocked on doors like this, too many times. It was never any easier.

A knock sounds at the door. A child runs up to the window and peaks through. He is young, only 7 but he knows. The curtain falls back. A minute later, the door opens. The boy stands before them.

"Go away".

"Son, can we speak to your mother?"

"No. Leave."

"We can't do that."

She sees her son blocking the door, standing behind him, just outside the door are 2 men in their dress uniforms. Her body reacts before her mind can catch up. The news last night...she would never see him again. A plate breaks on the floor in the kitchen, she bursts into tears, unbelieving, shaking but knowing deep down inside that it is true. He is gone, forever. She sees herself moving toward the door but cannot feel. She says something and the boy walks away from the door and up the stairs. The padre says something but his words are unimportant. All she knows is the loss. The men turn and walk down the walkway. She closes the door and crumbles to the floor sobbing.

The phone rings. She sees the phone number. She too had watched the news yesterday. Maybe it was nothing. She picks up the phone and hears a sigh and sniffling. She knows, her eldest son is gone. Her heart breaks but she has to be strong.

"Was it him?"

One word, the word she did not want to hear.

"I will call the others. Take care of your son. I will be there as soon as I can. I'll book a flight and be there tomorrow."

She hangs up the phone and screams. The tears run down her cheeks but it is not the time, she can do that later. She picks up the phone and dials the Base number. Calmly, she explains to the MWO that she needs to reach her son, that it should come from her. He is sorry for her loss...he doesn't know what that means.

The Sargent calls him. He is in the middle of a mission. He can't just stop everything. He looks at the Sargent and understands. He drops everything. They find a quieter place to talk.

"Is it my mother? Is she sick?"

The Sargent tells me what happened. I'm sorry for you loss...he knows it means nothing but he says it. He had received a similar call just a few years back. He nods and is told to gather his things, he is going home on leave. He walks away, knowing his brother will be at peace.