She stood silently, watching as they slowly lowered the casket into the ground. The thud of it hitting the bottom made her flinch, nausea rising in her throat. She fought the urge to turn and run, run from this service, from this day. From the truth. He was gone. Ripped away from her too soon, taken before his time. He was only twenty-six, damnit. He wasn't supposed to leave her this soon - not until they were old and grey. 
Pain clawed at her chest and a muffled sob tumbled from her lips. His brother, standing next to her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He gently guided her forward, offering his little brother's widow all the support he could.
Dropping a rose into the grave, her tears spilled over again. He wouldn't hold her again, never drive her crazy with his inability to put the cap back on the toothpaste, never curl up on the couch with her, wouldn't kiss her again.
The soft fluttering in her belly reminded her of the hardest part. He would never hold their baby girl.