A Dead Solider's Burden

I felt the knot in my chest tighten as I saw my mother crying on the grave stone. I wish I could comfort her, tell her that everything was fine. But I couldn’t. All I could do was watch, and it was truly cruelty.
She put the flowers she had with her in front of the headstone. Windflowers, my favorite. Kinda ironic now, since the meaning of windflower is abandonment. I’m sure that’s how she felt. I know that’s how I felt, not being able to tell her anything. I wish I could.
But I’m dead. I’m just a ghost now, and can’t speak the those still alive. I wish that I could just tell her the things I never got to say.
Like how I wanted to say that I was always the one who broke the dishes when my brother and I were still kids. That I smoked when I was in high school. That I used to beat up Luke for his desert when we were 9. That I was the one who accidentally ran over the cat with my car when I was 17. That I was sorry for blaming Luke for everything. That I loved you. One more thing. I wont be home for Christmas.

View this story's 1 comments.