We finished the burial services of my friend. She was in the war and probably have seen more than most would ever want to. Not to say that it was all bad, but I am thinking all was not exactly good. Can you imagine how the world looks behind a soldiers eye, one having visited so many places, probably impacted so many lives. Maybe even being the cause of someone’s demise. Then they have to live with their actions until the end of their time. I went for a walk after the services. Needed to be alone, so many thoughts in my head that needed to be still. I wandered out into the fields that night cloudy and just enough moonlight. I went to an area where my friend and I would just recollect ourselves. Practice shooting you know- live. I came across her weapon in the dirt. It startled me at first, I was thinking that I was paying witness to her ghost. The weapon was stuck in the ground like you would imagine the sword from the stone, it was topped with her helmet as if it was waiting for me to come and recollect. At that moment I thought of expressing myself the only way I can…I pulled out my trumpet and played a tune after our own hearts. Syncing our souls to let her know she would be sorely missed. It was a melancholy feeling but very much satisfying that I finally got to say my goodbye in a way that only she could hear.