Four months… has it really just been four months? It is hard to believe that it has only been four months. Each day since I heard the news has dragged on incalculably long. Yet somehow I am caught in the feeling that it has all been moving too fast. A trip home, I didn’t even make it in time for the funeral, summer was coming and as far south as we were, there was no helping it. Three new graves.
I’ve had friends die before. One doesn’t serve on the front for long and not lose people. But this bites all the deeper, even though I hadn’t seen them in ages. It wasn’t even raining when I visited their graves. Somehow I felt that it should have been. It was bitter, only my mothers tears to wet the ground. She’s allowed to show her grief. I had the duty now. No day of grief should be so beautiful. I hated it. I hated them.
I never wanted this. I wasn’t one of those who envied their elder brothers. I liked what I was doing. I had a purpose in my life a higher cause. I resent them. And I hate myself for it. I love them. I hate myself more for my feelings. I hate those who did this to them. Bandits? How could they get past the guard so easily, target them so ruthlessly? I’ll avenge them. Somehow, someway I will find who did this to them. I miss them. I’ll honor their memories as best I can.
Lord help me, I wasn’t made for this.