How Do I Cope?

He couldn't have died at a worse time.
I know that's wrong of my to say, but it's true. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, glancing at the growing pile of bills. How would I ever pay them now? His military pension was the only thing that had given us hope. That was  gone now. My thoughts were interrupted by a loud cry. I went up the stairs and into the second bedroom. Scooping up my one month old baby. Looking into her sweet, innocent face I realized that she would never know her father. A weight was laid on my shoulders as I became aware that the way this tiny baby thought about her father completely rested on me. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the diaper bag and headed out to the car that was waiting outside. Clutching my daughter close to me I wiped a tear from my eye. The ceremony was short. One of my husband's close friends presented me with the folded flag. Even though he's not supposed to, he leaned down and gave me a hug before returning to his place. I stared stoically at the casket as it was lowered into the ground. The musket fire rang through my body with each shot. The noise scared my daughter and she started to cry. I tried to calm her down, but it was no use. I couldn't take it anymore. I started to cry too. Sinking to my knees I held my head in one hand. Clearly surprised by my outburst, my daughter stopped crying and just looked at me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my husband's friend. I could tell by his face that he wanted to comfort me. My mom and sister stepped forward. My sister took the baby from me and my mom held me close to her.
After the ceremony everyone came up to offer me their condolences. I simply nodded, shook hands, and hugged them. When I thought I had gotten through everyone I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see my husband's friend. Without saying anything he enveloped me in a hug. He didn't offer any words of sympathy that wouldn't do anything. Nothing would bring my husband back. With a comforting arm around my shoulders he led me and my daughter back to the car.

Memories and Moving On

Most vivid about his childhood memories of his home town was the times he spent at his neighbors farm. He spent every weekend there, and sometimes he'd go over after dinner. He loved to watch the horses in the pasture. He'd watch them for hours. But brushing them wand washing them was his favorite. He loved feeling the strong, sturdy muscles as he stroked the horse's back and flank. The way the horse's glassy eyes watched him as he did his work.
But he'll never forget that fateful day. The first day he rode a horse was fine. But then when he tried riding the horse by himself, well, that's when everything went wrong.
First he tensed, then the horse threw him backwards. As the horse reared it stepped backward, landing on his shin. Hearing the sickening crunch, and the painful wail, the horse shot forward, running around the track, circling back. The instructor had just reached him and pulled him off the track before racing to calm the horse down.
The next hour was a blur. With the paramedics rushing to his side, the ambulance ride to the hospital, and being prepared for surgery. When he woke up in his hospital room pain came shooting up from his leg. Glancing down he saw that his leg was in a brace. As the nurse explained what had happened he started to feel queasy.  
And now as he stood at the entrance to the horse farm all those memories came flooding back. He glanced down at his prosthetic leg and took in a shaky breath.
"Daddy! Daddy!"
He turned around and opened his arms wide, crouching to scoop up his daughter. His wife came up, laughing, and put her arm around him.
:This is brave of you, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."
"Anything for my two princesses!"
He took another deep breath, shifted his daughter on his hip, took his wife's hand in his and walked toward the barn.