The Body by Stephen King

"The most important things are the hardest things to say." 

That quote was racing through my head over and over and over again as I walked up the steps of 469 Melville Drive.  Over and over and over again it repeated: "The most important things are the hardest things to say." I just couldn't get that quote out of my mind. Ever since the body was found I had been contemplating how I was going to tell his family. How would they react, I had no clue. Would they break down into tears or just look at me and ask the most dreaded question of all, the one question that you never want to hear. "How." Her asking the question would be like a death warrant. Then I would have to explain all the details and if they had even an ounce of love in their bodies for him they would certainly break down into tears. How would his kids handle the news? I had the royalty of growing up with my dad and I couldn't imagine not having him around. But I felt the worst for his wife. Apparently they had just had a huge argument before he left and never returned. It was terrible even imagining the type of guilt that she was feeling right now. Imagine feeling like you killed you husband, feeling like if you didn't argue about that stupid little thing than he would still be around today.  When we found the body it was obviously him. He was wearing the cloths that his wife said he would be wearing and his face was unmistakably the same face that we had been shown in his family picture. I shuttered remembering looking at that picture, him and his family looking all happy, smiling at the camera, and then seeing his pale dead face, no way around the fact that it was him. I let the sorrow fill me for a few more seconds before leaving my squad car. It was time to tell the family the news that I knew they had been waiting to hear. The walk up the driveway seemed to take an eternity. With every second that passed by I felt more and more anxious. No way around doing this but it was so nerve wracking. And then finally I was at the door. I slowly knocked on the door the times. It took awhile for her to answer the door, but finally after what felt like an hour the door creaked open. There she was awaiting the words that I was about to say. Then finally I said it: "Mrs. Smith, we found your husband, he is dead."