A/N: Prompt for breadsticks4life, who gave me the first sentence. Thanks!
It was never supposed to end this way. Not with three shovelfuls of dirt and left stones. Not with Sam's hands the only ones their kids can reach for, the only ones that can wrap around theirs when they're sad or scared or happy. Not with Sam having to live without her.
The graveyard is calm, silent except for the calls of birds in the trees and the quiet whispers of their children. Sam's eyes are closed, his jaw set as he stands in front of her grave. "Rachel…" he sighs, hoping she can hear him, believing that she can hear him, "We miss you. We love you."
Turning his head, tears burn at his eyes. His words catch. "I miss you. I love you." Rough fingertips brushing along the letters in her name, Rachel Barbra Evans, he gladly slips his arms around their children's shoulders as they crowd against him.
"Dad…?" Leia asks, sad and regretful, "D'you think she's here?"
Sam squeezes her close. "I have to believe so," he admits, smiling, rubbing his hand up and down Luke's shoulder as he presses into his leg, still too young to really know what's going on.
Sighing, Leia nods. "Okay," she says with conviction, burrowing further into her father's side, "If it means I have to believe even harder, I will. I don't… I don't want her to go away."
Sam softly laughs to hide the tears in his voice as he kisses her forehead. "I know, honey," he murmurs, turning back to the grave, "That's what I want too."