So for today's, we were supposed to look over the CNN website, and pick an issue to place our characters in. As you may or may not have noticed, I am quite passionate about the members and families of the men and women in our armed services. And when I saw this article this morning, with the accompanying picture, inspiration struck. Definitely not the most cheerful of posts, but it's where my mind was after seeing the article.

Penname: kyla713
Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Derivative
Rating/Warning(s): T
Notes:
Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Prompt: Live Challenge: Open CNN(dot)com. Take ten seconds to scan the page; pick an article. Write a story, poem, or drabble about your character being involved in that issue. www(dot)cnn(dot)com/2009/US/12/12/washington(dot)arlington(dot)wreath/index(dot)html

As I walked through the grass, the realization suddenly hit me; a thought I had been trying to ignore for a long time.

He was never coming back. And this was going to be my first Christmas completely without him.

I hadn't been back to this place in months, I couldn't bear to see it again. Watching them lay my thirty-one year old husband, who still had so much life to live and so many plans, into the ground shattered me. Standing in my father's embrace, I had been a numb shell that day; I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I simply wanted to wake up from the nightmare that took him away from me, and our two children.

I had woken up this morning, gazing at the empty space in the bed after dreaming he was there beside me, and I realized I had been away too long.

I called my mother-in-law to ask her to come and watch the kids. I couldn't drag them out into the bitter December weather, and not for this. Madelyn was barely a year old and would never understand, and neither of my children needed to see me like this.

However, as I was putting on my gloves and jacket, I felt a gentle tug at the bottom of my wool coat and looked down into the face of my five-year-old son, Keiran.

"Mommy, where are you going?" the tiny voice asked me, his father's green eyes staring up at me.

"Mommy's just going out for a little while. Stay here with Nan for a bit and I'll be back soon," I replied, attempting to force a smile for him as I leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

"You're going to see Daddy, huh."

I pinched my eyes closed for a moment, my lips still pressed against his hair, willing back the tears that his simple words evoked. It was a statement, not a question. I'd tried so hard not to be so transparent with my kids, especially Keiran, who was old enough to remember his dad. He had gone on the fishing trips and ridden on his father's shoulders at baseball games. Had waited patiently at the window for him to come home every day, and ran to jump in his arms when he did.

I took a deep breath and crouched down in front of him, running my fingers over his little cheek and nodding. "Yes, I'm going to see Daddy. Be a good boy for Nan, I promise I won't be long."

"I wanna see Daddy too," he said sadly and I sighed softly, pulling him into my arms. "Please Mommy. Can I go too?"

Brushing his hair away from his face with my hand, I stared into those tear-filled eyes and slowly nodded. "Go get your jacket."

As I watched him run to his room, I ran my hands over my face. I'd been so caught up in my own grief of losing the man I loved that I had overlooked our son's need. For closure, or solace… or simply just the moment with his father that I was seeking as well.

With the gentle reassurances of my mother in law, I walked out the door with my little boy.

And now, we were walking through the endless rows of white stones that I had never imagined in all the times I had visited this place as a child, would mark someone I loved.

Yet here it was.

Edward Anthony Cullen

SSG

US Army

June 20, 1977

January 21, 2009

I knelt down in front of the gravestone, grazing my gloved hand over the smooth top as my eyes met the wreath leaning against the base. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his name. "Merry Christmas, baby."

Keiran stood beside me, placing his tiny hand on top of mine. "I'm taking care of Mommy just like I promised," he said proudly, tightening his fingers around mine and kissing the edge of the stone as well. "Merry Christmas, Daddy."

Depressing, I know... :(