In the movies, graveyards are perpetually dim. In the movies, gray rain always falls to dampen the gravestones and water the roses planted in tribute to the departed.

This isn’t the movies. The sunlight is so bright it hurts his eyes. He can’t see a cloud in the sky. Shrugging his dismissal of movie clichés, he puts on sunglasses and slams the door of his truck.

The grass is freshly mown and very green under his feet. All the trees are pruned and look healthy. He isn’t sure why that reassures him so much. It isn’t as if she’s around to see it.

He leans back on his heels in front of the grave. “Hey, it’s me,” he says quietly. “I know I haven’t been around for a while. Things have been really busy.”

Is she somewhere watching him? Does she know or care that he still remembers her birthday?

He kisses his fingers and touches the plastic-covered photograph embedded in her gravestone. Even after fifteen months, it still hurts to see her smiling face, to know he’ll never hear her laugh again.

She was so cocky when he first met her - bright-eyed and confident and maybe even arrogant. Time and experience eventually mellowed her, transforming her into the woman he loved. There had been sadness in her eyes sometimes because she had seen things no one should ever have to see, but laughter had always come easily to her nonetheless.

He thinks back over the time they had together and decides that he wouldn’t change a thing, not even to escape the pain.

She was so young when she died - not even forty. They both knew the risks involved with their job, but somehow they just never thought it would happen to one of them.

“The kids miss you,” he says softly. “April isn’t as scared of the dark any more, but Aidan still can’t bear to sleep alone. He always was our sensitive one.”

He pauses. The wind whispers through the trees. He doesn’t bother to wonder whether it’s her.

“Kate took the toaster apart again this week. She reminds me of you. Smart, feisty, beautiful ... ” He pauses a moment to regain his composure, then continues, “Melyssa wrote you a letter. She said she’s going to put it in a bottle and throw it in the water and God will give it to you.”

They never intended to have four children. Their daughters, Kate and Melyssa, were seven and three when the twins, April and Aidan, came along. The twins were a surprise, to say the least.

He can’t hold back a faint grin as he shares the next tidbit. “Daniel Jackson died again this week. By my count, that makes twelve. Walter thinks it’s eleven, but he’s not counting the time everybody thought Daniel was dead, and he wasn’t. Anyway, it took him three days to come back this time. The whole base was betting on when he’d return. O’Brien won.”

He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers along her picture again. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop beating around the bush. The truth is, I’ve met somebody, and I - I had to come and ... ”

Another pause. How do you tell your dead wife you’re thinking of getting married again?

“Her name is Shannon. She’s a schoolteacher. It’s a cliché, but I really do think you’d like her. She’s great with the kids. They’ve all taken to her, even Melyssa.”

He pulls up a few blades of grass. “The twins are only three, Jen. They need a mom. And as much as I’ll always love you, I need somebody too. Shannon’s ... she’s really great.”

He waits for a while, maybe hoping for something, some voice or vision telling him it’s all right.

After a while he gets up to leave. “I’ll be back,” he says. “That’s a promise. I love you, Jen.”

It has clouded up. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the first few drops of rain fall on Lt. Colonel Graham Simmons just as he reaches his truck.