We can be heroes, just for one day.

She was dead on arrival at the hospital, there was nothing they could have done to save her.
He stared at his phone, not really believing it, not fully understanding, still in a state of shock. It's been two years since he last spoke to her, two years since he saw her, two years since she drove away after yelling at him. It wasn't supposed to be this way, she was supposed to live longer than this, she was supposed to outlive him.

He just sat and stared around him; the walls faded into a blur as the full weight of what he had just heard hit him. She was dead. The car that ran the red light and hit her had overturned; the driver dead on impact. It didn't make him feel any better.

The last time he had spoken to her, he had told her that he wasn't going to apply for a transfer from Afghanistan to the States. She had been furious, but he hadn't told her the full truth, he hadn't told her that he had cancer. There was so much more that he hadn't told her; he wanted her to be happy, not to mourn him, especially not when he had stage three cancer. It was miraculous that he had lived as long as he had, but without her, he had lost every reason to live.

He still couldn't believe it, still couldn't understand that he'd never hear her voice again, never hear her laugh, never be able to talk to her again-and she had been all that mattered, especially after his family died in the house fire seven years ago.

He didn't realize what he was doing until he took the safety off his pistol. He stared at it, then turned the safety back on. He made a promise, years ago, and he wasn't going to break it.

His remains were buried next to her, months later, after he was killed, giving his life up by diving onto a grenade to protect his team. His Medal of Honor was buried with him.