Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Remembering

I have seen my husband repeatedly get news about a brother in arms dying. I’ve comforted him as much as I could when he would fall apart in grief. I’ve tried to break the stony silence when he would close up and stare off in to space.

I’ve locked myself in my car sobbing, broken after receiving a call about a good friend’s suicide. I've rocked myself back and forth sobbing alone in my apartment asking God why after hearing about a friend's death in Afghanistan.

Yet, I can’t remember a time I really celebrated Memorial Day they way it is meant to. I actually never treated it more than a reason to not work and to BBQ with friends and family.

Why was I so disillusioned to this holiday?

I believe it is because I carry it with me everyday. Everyday I remember Jim. The way he smiled and laughed. That day we watched Friends all day while it rained. That one night he surprised me when I got home from work by making me dinner. I remember how our relationship fell apart after I got married and his girlfriend didn’t want him talking to me anymore.

Everyday I remember Mace. Being the only wife amongst a big group of guys can be intimidating, but he was accepting and made sure I felt welcomed. He stuck up for me when other guys picked on me. I remember playing wing woman to him and a couple of the other guys one night in a bar in a small town in Colorado.

My husband remembers all his friends and he carries a guilt everyday for not being there. He carries around a feeling of responsibility. In a pocket on his ACUs he carries a bracelet broken from being worn everyday, on it his brothers’ names and the dates with many names to be added.

To us remembering the men and women who died in military service isn’t confined to one day. We remember our loved ones everyday and the sacrifice they made.

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