Appropriately clad in black, she managed the necessary decisions, arranged for the care of her two small daughters, and accepted the folded flag with due respect. Though today, the whole affair is a dim thing in her memory, the flag stands out of the black, in it's red, white, and blueness, a spot of color in all the blackness.
Now an old woman, as November rolls round, especially when the first day is all gray and cold, she remembers and the blackness that has never gone away totally becomes large. The flag, long gone, decorating a robber's lair, not there for consolation. She is left again to wonder why, what if,...and go about her day relying on time to soothe that which will never heal.