PRETTYMUCH IMAGINES

God Bless America X Edwin H.

You were kind of struggling due to the fact that you still had on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and they were kind of wet from the cleaning solution you were using.

"Oh my gosh!" You pull the glove off and toss it to the side before pulling the door open.

Immediately you're greeted by two men in Black suits with white gloves and one carries a small American flag.

For a second you're confused.

What are they doing here?

Why?

And then you realize, something is wrong.

Something happened.

Something had happened to Edwin.

He'd been away in the army for nearly 4 years and he was supposed to come home in a month.

But, what is this?

"Hello. Mrs. Honoret?" One of the men ask.

"That's me."

"Hello... I'm afraid we have some bad news."

You begin to unwrinkle your shirt casually.

"Bad news? how?"

The man's hands tremble as he begins to speak.

He takes a deep breath and something tells you that you should be prepared for whatever is to come.

"The commandant of the Marine Corps has entrusted me to express his deep regret that your husband, Edwin was killed in action in Afghanistan on September 23rd 2014 . He was shot in the chest. The commandant extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss."

You stand there silently and the two men aren't sure if your sad or frustrated but, this pains them just as much as it pains you.

Your daughters come to the door with their sandwiches and you close the door slightly so that they can't see.

"Go sit down."

"Who's at the door momma?" Your youngest child asks.

"Please go sit."
She obliges but, she's very confused and now the door opens again and you whisper one final thing to the two men.

"Thank you...for um.. informing us." Your voice cracks as if you're about to cry and you slowly push the door closed.

Your oldest daughter had seen the men leaving through the window and she's old enough to understand why they were here.

And now she understands why you didn't want them to see.

"Mom." Her voice is high pitched and you can tell she's fighting tears.

You know that she knows.

"Yes?" You reply and sit on the couch across from your two children continuing to try and keep your composure.

"...Is daddy okay?"