The Morning I Found a Wounded Veteran Holding My Son’s Final Words

I stood completely still when he finished speaking, my pulse racing as if my heart might give me away. He swallowed hard before correcting himself. “I was your son’s commanding officer,” he said quietly, his voice strained but steady. The weight of those words settled over me, mixing relief with a fresh wave of grief I hadn’t expected. I helped him sip some water and guided him carefully back against the doorframe as the early morning light spread across the street. He explained that his motorcycle had failed several miles away and that years of unresolved injuries had finally caught up with him. “I remembered what David told me,” he said softly. “About you. About this house. I always meant to come. I just never thought it would be like this.”