I can’t accept that he’s a few feet away from me, waiting to join a sea of white stones and perfectly cut green grass. I don’t want to walk away.
The True Consequence of War Demands Generations of Profound Loss
In an instantaneous flash of violence, the hopes and dreams they’d woven vanished in the dirt 5,000 miles from home.
Far Along on the Road That Doesn’t Come Back—Retracing the Steps of War Journalist Ernie Pyle|in Newsroom, Reflections | David Chrisinger
You just sort of exist, either standing up working or lying down asleep. There is no pleasant in-between. The velvet is all gone from the living.