They were home on leave, smiling, posing for photos in their uniforms. It was the last time my mother would ever see them together again. My grandfather spent 25 years hunting for information that was definitive. I think he must have wanted more than some letter that merely assumed his three sons must be dead. I think he would have liked to have known where and when and perhaps how.
Closure requires a measure of certainty.
My uncle Alfred continued the hunt into the 1980s, with no results. The official letters try to pinpoint during which action they most likely were killed, but certainty after so many years is difficult to come by. Even the efficient Wehrmacht clerks could not continue filing detailed after-action reports as they retreated into the Fatherland. Near the end chaos ruled the day. Typewriters were tossed into the gutters.