My hand flies to my throat at the sight before me as I try in vain to suppress a sob.
The headstone’s overturned, the flowers I’d left the week before shredded and thrown everywhere. There’s graffiti marring the letters and his picture, but my eyes are too blurred with tears to be able to read what it says.
I’d been warned and had come prepared, or so I thought. Silently, I set about cleaning his final resting place, not stopping until the headstone is clean and upright again.
Here Lies Major Jasper Whitlock. Beloved Son, Husband, And Father.