He stood in the shadows of the hallway glancing at all the pictures of his family on the walls, of all the good times. His four year old twin sons racing to be the first one into the pool on the Fourth of July. His wife sitting in a rocking chair holding their six month old baby girl. Their first family vacation to the woods where he accidentally dropped the bag of marshmallows into the fire.

He continued down the hallway and into the living room where his children were sitting around the faded coffee table drinking lemonade while watching PBS Kids on the old dented television. Their eyes were glued to the screen and their mouths were slightly ajar with the occasional upturn in the corner of their lips. He stood there for what seemed like forever wishing that he could tell them all the things that he now couldn't.

As he walked into the kitchen, he turned towards the sound of the sink running and stopped at the sight of his wife washing the pots used to prepare lunch a half an hour before. Even with six years of marriage and the birthing of three children, she still took his breath away. He stared at her longingly, drinking her in. Then the doorbell rang.

His wife glanced up, turned off the faucet, and headed for the front door passing within an inch of him without a glance. He stayed where he was already knowing what she was about to hear. He heard the heavy door open and the distinct tones of his commander carried through the entryway.

"Mrs. Evans?"

"Yes," he heard her respond.

There was a pause where his commanding officer seemed to compose himself.

"Mrs. Evans," he began again. "I'm so sorry. Your husband has died in combat… I'm so sorry."

He turned from his position in the kitchen and walked to the front door just in time to see his commander enter his vehicle and drive away. His wife's shoulders were taught and her knuckles on the door had turned white. She turned around and stared right through him silent tears marking her face. He wished he could take her in his arms but he knew now it was too late. He could already feel himself being drawn away. He turned his head towards the sounds of the television in the next room and whispered, "Goodbye," and then was gone.

AN: I'm not affiliated with the army so I'm sorry if this is in any way inaccurate.