[ WP ] Two soldiers knock on your door , one is holding a folded flag . But you do n't know anyone in the military ...

It was about 11 o ’ clock on a thursday morning when I heard a car pull up in my driveway. I wasn ’ t expecting visitors, so I looked out the window to see who it was. I watched as a black sedan parked, and two men stepped out and walked towards my door. They were dressed head to toe in class A military uniforms, complete with patches, medals, and ribbons. I spent a brief moment making sure I looked presentable while I waited for them to reach the door. The doorbell rang and I opened the door. The man on the right stood at attention while he had a firm grip on a tri-folded American flag. 
 
 “ Hello. ” I answered. 
 
 “ Mr. Johnson? ” The man on the left said, looking for confirmation. 
 
 “ Yes, that ’ s me. ” 
 
 “ We regret to inform you that your father has passed away. We would like to present you with this flag in his honor. ” 
 
 This through me for a loop, as I had never met my father. I was adopted by a single woman who ran a foster home. As she told me, I had been through various homes at the time, being passed from one to the next. It was the second time I had been placed with her, and she felt bad for me. As time went on she took a liking to me, and she ’ s been a part of my life ever since. I had always known she wasn ’ t my real mother, but I never let that stop me from loving her as though she was. Even after I had grown up and left home I always made sure to call and keep her a part of my life at least once a week. That is until she passed away about a year ago. 
 
 “ Are you sure you ’ ve got the right person? ” I questioned. 
 
 “ Yes, you are his next of kin, he explicitly stated in his will that he wanted you to be notified. ” At that time the soldier on the right held out the flag, gesturing for me to take it, which I did. “ He also wanted you to have this. ” Said the man on the left as he handed me a sealed envelope, as well as an army-specific informational pamphlet on dealing with loss. “ You have a good day, sir. ” He said before, they both brought their right hand up to eye level, saluting me. They then turned around and made their way back to their vehicle. 
 
 I closed the door, and stood there confused. Thinking about the events that had just transpired. After collecting my thoughts I set the flag down on my table and took a seat with the envelope in hand. I carefully opened it. It read: 
 
 > To my son, 
 
 > For the past twenty years I ’ ve dwelled on the decision I made when you were born. I ’ ve spent night after night wondering if what I did was the best for the both of us, and still to this day I ’ m not sure how to answer that question. You see the circumstances weren ’ t very simple; there were complications during your birth, and unfortunately your mother did not make it. I was a young man, set to leave for basic training in a few weeks. Distraught with the loss of my wife, I sat up late at night and held you in my arms, thinking of what kind of future you might have. 
 
 > My father before me was in the military, and he was killed in action. I remember the day my mother and I were told. She was devastated and unable to feel anything but grief for weeks. The news took it ’ s toll on me as well, I didn ’ t know what to do with myself. For the next year I felt stuck, like I couldn ’ t move forward. I didn ’ t want that for you. I didn ’ t want for you to have to stay with grandparents, and wonder when I would be home. Wonder if I was safe, and fear when an unfamiliar car pulls into your driveway. So, I did what I thought was best. I gave you away, in hopes a loving family would see all the things that I saw in you. 
 
 > I write this to you, as I am on my final deployment. I hope to be able to deliver this letter to you in person, and have you in my life once again. I hope you can forgive me for the decision I had to make. 
 
 > Signed, your loving father. 
 
 A mix of emotions came over me. Many times in my life I wondered who my parents were, thought of why they didn ’ t want me, of why they didn ’ t love me. Now I had the answers I was looking for, for so long. All of the sudden I felt a connection with someone I had never met before. Tears began streaming down my face, and I mourned for my loss. 
 
 After I had finally gathered myself, I took a look at the pamphlet the soldier had given me. I looked on the back and there was a hotline number for grieving military families to call. I called the number and spilled my heart out. With the help of a few people and few hours spent talking, I was able to get a little more information on my father. What his duties were, what his rank was, where he been deployed, and stationed. But, most importantly I found out where his funeral would be held.
