The Mist

Just as the mist is slowly coming down, so are my tears. He's not coming home anymore. A job he felt he must do, a job I knew would take him from me. The phone call it came his aircraft had been shot down. The voice would go on to say as the tears slowly flowed down my cheeks "No survivors ma'am, we are sincerely sorry." As I dropped the phone I heard the voice ask "ma'am ma'am are you ok?" Then I just cried out "This can't be true, we had only just began our life as one."