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1917.
It had been nearly two weeks since the Olsen family heard from their beloved William.
They usually received a letter from him at least once every week, maybe a week and a half depending on how far he was from Sweden. Often times, his younger sister Florence would be waiting at the door for his letters. His letters were often written directly to and for her, with the intention of letting their parents read it as well. But William and Florence were close siblings, and he was her best friend. He often told her the things he was experiencing while away in the war.
It was a late Saturday afternoon, and Florence was eagerly awaiting another letter from her brother. With every day that passed, she grew more nervous that she wouldn't receive a letter from him. Normally she would have gotten a letter from him by now, maybe even two. But a postman never arrived at their doorstep with a letter. She paced the foyer of the Olsen home, occasionally peeking out the window for a mailman carrying a letter.
But one never came.
Minutes turned to hours. Florence was hoping and praying something would happen, that she would hear from her brother. Her thoughts began to lead her to believe that something bad had happened to him. She didn't want to think nor believe it, but she couldn't help it. With the war, men were dropping like flies. People all around her were receiving news that they had lost a loved one. The family across the street received their news the Saturday prior.
William Olsen was a good man. He was a fighter. Florence wanted to believe he would come home safe and well, but given the environment around her, it was difficult to truly believe it.
There was a sudden knock at the door, the soft sounds echoing through the house. Florence felt her heart stop. Her mother and father emerged in the foyer and the three hurried to the front door. They each prayed that it was a mailman with a letter from William. Florence took a deep breath and shut her eyes, reaching for the handle of the front door.
On their porch was a tall man, who's red hair was hidden under his hat and his hands were intertwined and resting on his stomach. He looked worn and upset, like he was withholding terrible news.
It was the mailman who usually delivered William's letters, Seymour. But there was no envelope in his hand this time.
Florence felt her heart drop into her stomach. The man didn't have to say a word. The family already knew. Florence heard her mother began to cry softly behind her. The man averted his eyes to the ground, not being able to bear looking the young woman before him in the eyes.
"What's happened?" Florence's father asked, his voice low and hushed.
The man parted his lips to speak, but the words couldn't come out. Florence had noticed he was slightly shaking. She was growing impatient. She just wanted to hear the words for herself.
"Say it, goddamn it." Florence suddenly spat, earning a gentle nudge from her father.
"I'm very sorry." The man finally spoke, his voice barely audible. "They discovered William's body on the battlefield yesterday. They're bringing it to the city tomorrow night."
The quiet cries of Florence's mother turned into sobs as she collapsed into her husband's arms. He held her close to his chest, a tear slipping down his own cheek. As for Florence, she remained completely still. She knew he was going to say it, but it still didn't feel real. William couldn't be dead. There must have been a mistake. Florence told herself every possible excuse that she could. Her brother was not dead. She refused to believe the truth that had just been told right to her face.
"No." Florence whispered. She stood completely still, the shock of the news preventing her from making even a slight movement.
"I wish I was lyin' to you." The man replied, softly shaking his head. "It was confirmed this morning. I'm sorry, Miss."
Florence's father stepped in front of his daughter before she could have an outburst, grabbing hold of the door to close it. Florence's mother excused herself from the foyer and went back to her bedroom. As soon as Florence was out of the doorway, tears began to slip down her face. It began to set in that her brother was truly gone.
The shining star of the Olsen family had burned out. He was nothing but another corpse created by the brutal war.
"Thank you, Seymour." Florence's father uttered to the man, receiving a nod back before he finally shut the door.
Florence stood in front of her brother's grave, holding a small bouquet of white flowers in her shaking hand as she repeatedly read over the tombstone engraving that read her brother's name. William James Olsen. A beloved brother and son. Florence couldn't stop the tears from running down her face. It felt like she hadn't stopped crying since that gloomy Saturday afternoon.
She wouldn't speak when someone gave her their regards, or try to show any sympathy to the young woman. She didn't know what to say, not that she would say anything if she did. Usually her mother would just speak for her, but sometimes her father would scold her for not saying anything. These people are here for us and William. Show them some respect, Florence. He would say. But still, the girl stayed quiet.
Everyone fancied William, it was hard not to like him. He was polite, charming, kind. Florence was all of those things too, but she lacked the charisma her brother possessed. But since William was gone, the spotlight was on Florence. And she hated it.
Florence felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see her mother beside her. The old woman looked tired, her eyes red and puffy. None of the Olsen's had gotten any sleep, and it was evident by their tired, sunken eyes. Her mother looked the worst of them all, as she had taken the news of William's death the hardest. Florence watched as she stared directly at her son's grave. Then she looked up at her daughter, causing her eyes to only tear up further. The sight of Florence, her only living child now, seemed to break her. But she reached out and took Florence's arm, lightly nodding her head.
"Let's go, dear." Her mother spoke in a hushed tone.
Florence nodded before turning back to William's grave, allowing herself to say her final goodbyes. Once she was ready, she the small bouquet on top of William's tombstone before following her mother to the car.
