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Too young. Too beautiful. But she knew it was time - she planned it that way. Had she known how things would spiral out of control after that, she would've told her husband. She never wanted her sons to be burdened like that. So, as she burned, she looked at her baby boy’s face for the last time and thought, when we die, we hope it’s for the best.
There are so many ways to die, especially as a hunter. But he was dead a long time ago. He died when he lost her. He only continued on for his sons, his poor sons, who now had the same violent life he chose. But when he died, even though it was to save the life of his son, he wanted to take it all back. He gave his sons the wrong lives, he should have never raised them to be killers, they’ll be scarred for the rest of their lives, living with no future, no hope. Cursed lives. A tragedy. He can’t take it back, it’s too late, it’s his greatest mistake. Sometimes when we die, we die with regret.
No way out. Trapped. You shouldn't have brought her here, and you know that. She’s all you have, your beautiful daughter, and now you’re trapped. But you had no choice. You would give anything for those boys, especially your life. When you sit on that floor, and you hear her take that very last breath, and you face death instead of your daughter, you think that at least when we die, we give life to someone else.
He was angry. He never knew anything but anger. Those boys didn't know the other side of their father. They didn't see him as a friend, mentor, brother. They only saw the grief, the vengeance, the betrayal. But he saw everything, and he knew that man was more than all of those things. That’s what made it so much worse. So he brought them up as his own, taught them things he knew their father would have if he was given another chance. He died angry, but he welcomed it. He didn't want to be in a world where good people kept dying. The last thing he thought, while staring at the boys he would give everything for, was that sometimes when we die, we are saved.
Brave boys. Tough boys. Broken boys. You have fought so hard. Are you at rest now, that you don’t have to fight anymore? You were so blessed. So loved. By all those you saved. By your friends who gave their lives for you. You went out the only way you knew how, guns blazing. A small relief. Men and women will talk about your legend for the rest of existence. You deserve so much more. You saved the world once. Twice. One hundred times. And the last thought you had, as you smiled at each other, was that there must be a God out there, because sometimes when we die, we die together.
To be graced by heaven is to be untouchable. Invincible. Unapproachable. He can’t die. But he wants to. So many steps walked on this earth and he finally wants to give up. Give in. There’s nothing for him anymore. So when he walks past the familiar graves of the two brothers that meant more to him than any blood bond, he can’t help but think that when we die, we don’t die soon enough.