They will not be coming home.
She paced the few steps from her door to the deck’s edge and back again. She gazed up at the washed out sky. Watched as the shadows encroached on the small lawn to blanket the rocks in the graying garden. Her breath was heavy in her chest.
They will not be coming home.
With every blink, the hues were fading. Taking with them memories of laughter, of pitter-patter, of wet wool and hot cocoa steaming by the fire.
The telegram emblazoned in her mind.
The boys will not be coming home.
All color gone.
Note: Dedicated to all those who knew and know such loss.
Photo prompt: © Sarah Potter
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Na'ama Yehuda 
You had me from the first sentence
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Thank you, Neil … this photo seemed to echo a melancholy …
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That is… uh… I can’t find the words… so very touching. and… thank you. this was really really dead on. Loved it.
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Thank you, Jellico. … I think there are some among us who might know loss more intimately than others, be it by means of war or illness or accident or impossible choices or despair. Thank you for this comment.
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Oh Na’ama. Such a tragic and real story, perfectly told
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Thank you, dear Dale. I think loss is such a universal theme that perhaps it resonated. I am grateful if so. XX
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I think so. Not coming home, is not coming home. xoxo
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XOXO Hugs, my friend. I know you know more than many.
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Nahhh… 😘
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XX
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Excellent. The loss of colour is a powerful image.
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Thank you, Iain! The photo was an excellent prompt for that. Thank you for the comment! Yes, grief can do that … hopefully only temporarily, or only to some degree, but dim the joy it does.
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Na’ama Y’karah M’ohd,
You’re a writer after my own heart. This is what I mean when I urge people to be inspired by the prompt. Your use of the gray tones painted a poignant and tragic picture that goes straight to the heart. Beautiful!
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Yay! I got an A! 🙂
Thank you! Really. I mean it. I think that what speaks to people in this lovely weekly prompt is the variety of photos and the freedom it allows to roam wherever our association takes us. It is not that photos need to be abstract – many are not – but that there is a variety to most of the responses that go to show the richness our brains can offer to each other. And I love that about FF. So glad this spoke to you. And I’m grateful for all the prompts. (speaking of, if you need a few more, you know where to find me). xx Na’ama
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Oh, the sadness… No wonder the world seemed so gray. When I think of my son that is how I feel….
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Thank you for this comment … and, I’m sorry … 😦 Sending hugs, if okay.
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Thank you…I take virtual hugs whenever they are offered!
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Sending a bundle!
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😊🙏🏼
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Very profound thoughts
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome Na’ama
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🙂
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Such beautiful, heartrending prose, Na’ama.
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Thank you! I appreciate the comment! 🙂
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You’re very welcome, my friend.
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An incredibly acute rendering of grief and loss. Well done.
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Thank you, Sandra. Sadly so many can relate because so many know loss closely enough to recognize it.
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That’s beautiful, Na’ama. So many generations, time and again, had to deal with such news
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Thanks, Crispina. Indeed, yes, too many, then and to this day, have to deal with such terrible news. The worst news, really.
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Yea, I know. My grandma received one of those (although it did only say missing in action, believed dead) then at the end of the war my father came home! You can imagine. Returned from the dead. He was one of only two that survived that particular action.
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WOW! That’s a terrible and wonderful story, both. And I assume much more complicate than a ‘happily ever after’ given the history your dad must have carried back, and inside him, for the rest of his life. Two of my uncles got such news. In two different wars. So did my childhood friend, for her father, lost in yet another war.
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Yea. He would tell us stories and make light of it. But a couple years back he wrote his “Memoirs”: Peace and War,, where he tells it as it was… though still with humour. But I shudder.
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Yes. I can totally understand the shudder. Wow. I’m glad he wrote it down. It is so important.
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It is recorded in the War Museum. And several interviews over recent years, including one with CNN
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WOW.
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My famous Dad! Bless him.
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🙂 Amen!
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I cannot for one moment imagine how receiving such a telegram must feel. A heart-rending but beautifully written pice Na’ama.
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Thank you, Keith. My relatives had a knock on the door. Endless devastation. I can only imagine how much worst (if possible) it can be in a telegram. When you don’t even have someone there to say they are sorry.
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I can understand how this emotional shock can drain the world of colour.
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Thank you, James. Yes. Exactly. I know it had for my uncle, when his son was killed. He was never the same after that.
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Excellent. The pathos is great. “Never coming home again” is a very difficult concept.
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Thank you, Linda. Yes, I think it is one of the hardest hollows to fill.
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Heartbreaking. Great use of the repetition of “not be coming home”, with the small alteration the final time. Great stuff 🙂
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Thank you! I think grief often weaves repeated lines of disbelief … thanks for the comment!
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the melancholy is understandable. but i do hope the situation is only temporary like the current pandemic.
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I fear that it may not be, but one can always hope that there was an error, and that they boys will indeed come home ….
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The fading of the color and the repetition of that line was heartbreaking. Powerful imagery, excellent writing, Na’ama.
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Thank you, Brenda! This heartbreak has been the reality of so many … I’m gratified if it resonated and was communicated! Thank you for the comment!
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Superb writing N. Such sorrow. Great take on the prompt.
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Thank you, my friend! May no more people know such sorrow.
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How sad. Powerful last line.
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Thank you … and yes, these realities are heartbreaking.
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Powerful story. Love the line “Taking with them memories of laughter, of pitter-patter, of wet wool and hot cocoa steaming by the fire.”
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Thank you. I’m glad this spoke to you, and I hope that only in the abstract. No parent should ever have to feel this pain, and alas too many have, and do.
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