One Cold November

You didn't save them. You let them die.

The words pounded her brain with each jolt of the train, memories flashing by as relentlessly as the passing terrain.

At the last stop, she disembarked, letting her feet carry her along a fading pathway.

It ended at the river.

Just feet away from the torrent were four markers bearing rough-carved epitaphs.

She stopped before the largest, which read, “Loving husband and father.” The image of a strong jaw and impossibly tender smile was trodden over by a pale lifeless face staring up from the rocky beach.

Next, twin memorials read, “Loving daughter” and “Loving son.” Giggles and soft blond hair filled her mind only to be chased away by confused, tear-filled eyes and terrified screams amid rushing water, an overturned skiff. The sounds tormented her, etched into her very soul.

Shuddering, she turned to the final marker: “Faithful companion.” A furry brown head nudged at her memories before dissipating to join the rest. The headstones lay solemn and steadfast, the only reminder of a life gone forever.

Cold, bone-achingly weary, the sorrow of the world on her shoulders, she’d carved them herself after burying her dead family in the hard-packed earth.