Fate's Redemption by Brandace Morrow

After he died, it opened up a whole new demographic.
Because it’s what I’ve always done, I video blogged about my
husband dying. I talked out my problems, and came up with a plan. I
didn't post those until I was in the right headspace, but they went
viral. Gold Star wives all over were sharing their stories and
advice on how to get through such a tough time. I covered a
marathon in Anchorage for the spouses of the fallen that year and
every one since then, putting faces to the ones left behind.
    This new venture into whole foods and my move
was just another evolution in my life. I found that people would
stick with me, and if they didn’t agree, they at least keep coming
back to share their opinion. I would post my videos even if I
didn't make any money off of it, but at least it's given me a way
to stay home with the kids and still pay the bills.
    Yes, you do get a lot of money from the
government when a spouse dies, but that money was divided up and
put into a high interest account so that the kids can use it for
weddings, college, or to buy a house when they get older. I have
continued to live off of the monthly stipend, and my own
income.
    Once upon a time, all I ever wanted to do was
live on a farm, with a husband of course, and our kids, living off
of the land and swapping fruits and veggies with my parents for
meat. I even had my husband all picked out, but that was a lifetime
ago.
    Glancing behind me, I look past the mini
U-Haul I'm pulling to the black GTO behind me. My dad flew up to
drive the car back and accompany me on this trip. Love that man.
The car belonged to Sebastian and will be Trigg's someday. Trigg
loves that car with a passion and would be in it for this whole
trip if I hadn't requested all of the kids ride with me the first
day.
    I grab my camera, with the tripod still
attached, and press the buttons overhead to open up the back doors
of the van. The kids pile out along with our dog, Angus. He's a
huge mutt. He looks to be a cross between a Great Dane and a cattle
dog of some kind. He's tall with a long tail and snout, one ear up,
one floppy; gray, black, and blue short hair that creates a dark
salt and pepper coat, with black spots placed sporadically on his
body. He's gentle and expressive, the kids love him, and he
couldn't be a better guard dog.
    I set up my camera on the hood of my car with
the bendable feet of the tripod and wait for my dad to park behind
us. The kids are used to the drill of waiting to be directed. For
us, it's not unusual to stop for a photo op. My dad pops out of the
muscle car with a spring in his step that makes me smile. He may be
the most excited about us moving back home.
    "Canada!" he yells, spreading his arms out
wide with a smile.
    I laugh. "Dad, come take a picture with us in
front of the Welcome to the Yukon sign." He walks over and stands
below the sign as asked. His hair is more white these days, and
he's got a belly growing on him. But he's still tall, posture
straight in his plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. Still
the same mustache I've always known him to have, just with more
wrinkles accenting his light brown eyes.
    I did not get my looks from my father. I am
the spitting image of my mom, down to our pinky toes. We both have
dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, and thin builds. I lucked out
with the genes. All of my kids got my darker genes, instead of
their father's lighter sandy colored hair and brown eyes. I thank
God for that every day. I loved my husband, but there's nothing
more striking than a dark complexion with blue eyes. My kids are
beautiful, if I do say so myself.
    I set the timer and jog over to the
others.
    "Three pictures, ten seconds apart, smile
first, silly second, smile last." I learned this from experience;
the first will be stiff, the second cute, and the third genuine
smiles with occasional drifting eyes. But as they get older,
there's less of the drifting and more perfect shots.
    I get behind the kids, and my dad puts