Rain fell softly over the military cemetery.
Two-year-old Noah knelt on the wet pavement beside a pair of worn combat boots.
He touched them with both hands.
Then he began to cry.
Behind him stood his mother, Emily.
Her face was already covered in tears.
A folded military jacket rested on the bench beside them.
Farther away, uniformed service members stood beside a flag-draped coffin.
Noah looked at the boots again.
Daddy?
Emily covered her mouth.
She had spent days trying to explain that his father was not coming home.
But Noah was too young to understand.
He only knew those boots belonged to the man who used to carry him through the house every night.
Noah pulled the boots closer.
Daddy shoes.
Emily knelt beside him.
Yes.
Those are Daddy’s.
Noah looked toward the coffin.
Then back at his mother.
Daddy sleeping?
Emily could not answer immediately.
She wrapped one arm around him.
No, sweetheart.
He is not sleeping.
Noah started crying harder.
Then he reached for the boots again and refused to let go.
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