The Morning I Found a Wounded Veteran Holding My Son’s Final Words
After he left, I stayed on the porch long after the sky darkened. The quiet felt different—less heavy, more reflective. My grief was still there, but it no longer felt sharp or endless. I understood then that healing doesn’t always come through time alone. Sometimes it arrives through human connection, through promises honored long after they were made. That night, I placed David’s letter beside my bed and slept more peacefully than I had in years, comforted by the knowledge that love, once shared, continues long after goodbye.
