To Love a Soldier (22 page)

L
etting Go a Fallen Brother, My Brother

Liz

Several days later, we were assembled the best we could be and ready to attend the wake. Though ready wouldn’t be the right choice of words, but it was all I had.
I hadn’t seen John’s body yet. The weather was cold, and there was a light snow coming down. Brady drove my mom, Mandy, and me to the funeral parlor; we were the first to arrive. Nobody wanted to step inside, but we forced ourselves to go through with it.

Nothing was going to change. No miracle was going to bring my brother back to us. We entered the room and there, in the front, was his casket, adorned with an American flag and surrounded by flowers. The casket was open and I saw John’s beautiful face.

I approached slowly. It looked like him, but at the same time it didn’t. There was no happiness in his face. No life. He had always been so full of life and so fun to be around. This John just lay there, arms crossed and sleeping. I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. I ran back to the seats and cried in my hands. Mandy went next and fell apart at the sight of him lying there. I heard her talking to him.

“What happened to you, my love? My prince. Why?” She cried out. She reached over and hugged his body. She kissed his cheek and Brady walked her to me and helped her to sit.

I couldn’t bring myself to look as my mom walked up. She had been holding herself together for the most part, but she leaned on the casket and wept.

“My baby!” she cried out, over and over. “My precious baby.”

Brady had to get her back to the seats, too. Lastly, it was his turn, and he walked up and had a long conversation with him. I couldn’t make it all out, but I could hear him telling John that he promised to be the man he would have wanted his sister to be with. He promised to watch over his family for him. Then, he turned and walked towards me. I had never seen him cry like I did at that moment. He hadn’t even known John that long, but it was long enough that Brady was broken. We stayed together closely, giving each other strength.

People started coming in droves. The sounds and views were heartbreaking. Men and women in police uniform, military uniform, firemen, EMTs, all these people I had no idea had known John
were coming. A very old man entered the room. He was wearing a military uniform with a veteran’s hat. He took his hat off and walked to the casket. A few minutes later, he approached us. He spoke with my mother for a couple of minutes and left. The poor old man was so upset that he needed two young marines to help him back outside.

I didn’t know how much more I could take. I looked at my mom and Mandy. We all looked
like we were going to fall to pieces. I was glad we only decided to do one viewing for the wake because I couldn’t handle going through this all over again. His funeral would be the next day and that was going to be hard enough

Before the end, as people started leaving, Joe showed up, out of his police uniform and in his Marine dress uniform. I could see him struggling to hold it together. This man knew so much more of my brother than I had ever realized. He sat with my mother for some time before leaving and gave us each a strong, long hug before making his way out. He turned to John and stood at attention, stiff as a board. Raising his arm, Joe placed his hand at his forehead and saluted John for what seemed like a whole minute. He dropped his hand and walked out without looking back.
It was almost unfathomable how hard it must have been for him to have to deal with this, with the expectation of not crying or becoming emotional while in uniform. I couldn’t get that thought out of my mind.

A few more people came and went and finally it was over. The end to the wake. Brady brought us home and stayed again to take care of us. I couldn’t thank him enough for being there for my family, and me; it choked me up knowing that John would feel the same way.

The next day, we attended John’s funeral. The same amount of people who came to his wake attended, maybe even more. As they spread out around the gravesite, it was like a sea of black. Black suits, black dresses, black everything. Marines were there with their rifles. They stood at attention the whole time. I think most of the town’s police force showed up, too. It was very touching and I swelled with pride. I was so proud to have been the sister to a man whom so many people adored, looked up to, respected, and even loved.

Many people took the stand and said their pieces. I saved mine. I wanted to read a note to John back in his old room, alone. It was where we had spent so much time growing up and playing together that it seemed like the right place to do it. It was where he and I had dealt with our father dying, so it was where I wanted to deal with losing him
as well.

The funeral came to an end. It was our final time with him and it became tougher and tougher. The Marines took the flag off his casket and folded it, presenting it to my mom. This would be her second folded flag.

They lowered my brother into the ground and the Marines fired their rifles on cue. Another piece of me died on that day, in that moment. A huge piece of me, of my heart, was taken from me, and my life would never be the same.

After John was
laid to rest, it took more than an hour just to get to our car, past all the people offering condolences. I appreciated each and every one, more than they could’ve imagined.

Brady brought us all home. Mandy wanted to go home alone, but we absolutely refused to let her. She gave in and stayed with us, again.
Though on the outside, she appeared to be holding it together, we knew better. She wasn’t letting the reality of it all sink it. I couldn’t blame her because I wasn’t either. None of us were. We were all still in a state of shock and disbelief and going through the motions of what needed to be done because John deserved nothing less. Time for healing and processing would take time, a long time. If it ever came at all.

New Life

Mandy

It was late May. I had spent many spring days sitting in the open field behind my house. I found comfort lying in the tall grass staring up at the sky. Countless hours were spent talking to John up there. Every time a breeze would hit me, I would pretend it was John’s hand brushing my hair or gently rubbing my cheek. The hotter the weather got, the more uncomfortable it was for me. My giant belly, nature, and the heat didn’t get along.

I decided to skip the field today. I had been getting hit with false labor lately, and it was so close to my due date that I didn’t want to risk being out in a field and having my water break. I was putting the finishing touches on the baby’s room. Liz had been helping me decorate it in a neutral color because I refused to find out what gender John’s baby was going to be.

I had covered the walls with John’s pictures. Mostly from his military buddies, many of whom had become close friends. There were pictures of John from boot camp, Iraq, Afghanistan, and from many bases in America. I had also pulled a bunch off of my phone that I took of us together. They were the classic arm out shots, but they were all I had and I remembered the moment of each one intimately.

Liz was planning on coming over with Brady later to finish the room. My now close friend, Joe Reed, made a point of stopping every day to check on me. Six and a half months ago, I swore that my life had ended. I didn’t think I could carry on, but I did. The loss had brought close to many other people who’d loved him, and in turn, they began to care for me.

My front door opened and Liz and Brady walked in. I went downstairs to greet them.

“Hey, bitch,” Liz said. “Damn, Brady look at her. It’s like a giant, white beach ball rolling down the stairs at us.”

“Suck it, bitch,” I replied. “I hate you; you’re so skinny.”

“Hey, Brady, imagine if she waited on you now and shook her ass?” Liz said. “I’m guessing I wouldn’t feel so threatened.”

“Listen, lady. If I wanted your man, he would’ve been mine a long time ago.” I winked at Brady, who just shook his head.

“All right, let’s finish the room, so it’s done before the baby comes,” Liz said. “Brady, go back out and get the rest of the stuff.”

“What do you have?” I asked.

“After saying goodbye to John in his old room, I finally found the strength to go through his stuff and clean,” she said. “I found some pictures he had of our father in his uniform and I thought it would be neat to hang a few next to John’s.”

“That’s a beautiful idea, Liz. Of course.”

She smiled. “I also found a few pics of John as a baby and as a little boy I thought you’d want to see.”

“I’d love to see them.”

“Yeah, figured you could see how ugly he was, so you wouldn’t be so shocked when your little monster comes out.” She laughed.

“That’s not nice.”

“Hey, you never know,” she said. “What if he or she looks like something you’d buy at a bait shop?”

“You’re horrible,” I chastised her.

Brady came back in with a small box and
we headed back up to the room, hanging pictures and adding some finishing touches. Brady walked over to help me hang one last picture.

“Mandy, I think you knocked your water bottle over,” he said.

I turned to look at him. “Water bottle? I don’t have a water bottle.”

“Well, the floor is all wet here,” he said.

“Holy shit.” Liz jumped up. “Her water broke!”

“Oh, shit, oh, shit.” I started hyperventilating. I wanted John. I knew he was watching over me, and our baby, but I wanted him here. He was supposed to be here…

“You’re fine. Brady, go make room in the car, now!” Liz yelled. “Come on, Mandy. I’ll help you down the stairs.”

Brady drove us to the hospital and Liz frantically called everyone we knew to tell them it was time. My contractions started getting closer together, causing Brady to panic and step on the gas and earning us a pair of red, white, and blue cop lights. Quickly pulling to the side of the road, he rolled the window down and there stood Joe.

“Where’s the fire, Brady?” he joked before taking me in. “Shit, it’s time? Go! Follow me!”

It was rather funny to see another huge Marine get all bent out of shape. Boys are so stupid sometimes. Turning on his sirens, Joe pulled back into traffic as Brady followed behind him. We arrived at the hospital in record time and I was pre-registered, so they wheeled me right up to labor and delivery. For as fast and hard as my contractions were coming, we were there for a good two hours before anything started happening.

Eventually, my midwife told me that it was time to start pushing. I pushed and pushed. I had never felt that much physical pain in my life. I pushed for five hours. Liz kept coming and going and, according to her, the crowd kept growing in the waiting room. I think for many of them it was a way of getting John back, and I was okay with that.

“Here comes the head,” my midwife called out. “Keep pushing, Mandy. You’re doing great.”

“I am pushing, dammit! I’ve been pushing for like 20 hours!”

“I know, but you’re almost there. Keep going. Breathe,” she said.

“Come on, Mandy, you can do it,” Liz yelled, even though she was standing right next to me.

“What are you, the fucking pregnant lady cheerleader?!?”

Shaking her head and trying to suppress a laugh, she mumbled, “Just trying to help.”

“You can help by getting this thing out of me! Pull it out or something!”

“Hell, no,” Liz said. “I’m not going down there. It’s like a jellyfish blew up or something.”

“You’re not helping,” the midwife reprimanded her. “Mandy, give me one more big push. Come on, one more and we’re there.”

“Yeah, we’re there. Like you’re doing the hard work, lady!”

“Come on, Mandy, PUSH!” she practically yelled.

I pushed. I pushed again, harder. The pressure was overwhelming. I pushed as hard as I could and the pressure disappeared. I laid back in exhaustion and looked up to see Liz’s eyes fill with tears. I heard some nurses hustling around and then the cries of a baby. John’s baby was here.

“Oh my God,” Liz said. “Mandy.” Her face filled with joy.

The nurse brought the baby over to me and I held him in my arms. It was a boy. A beautiful, strong baby boy.

“I’ll be right back,” Liz said, running out the door.

I stared into my baby’s eyes. They would open for a second or two and then close. I felt like I was holding a piece of John in my arms. I was filled with comfort and joy. I couldn’t be happier. I loved this baby boy immediately, and I felt John looking down on me in that moment.

Lisa, Brady, and Joe burst into the room behind Liz. They rushed the bed and the room got loud. They all reached down and touched the baby, bringing tears to their eyes.

“What did you and John decide to name him?” Lisa asked.

“Honestly, I had a bunch of names, but never had the chance to go over them with John.”

“Honey, he would’ve wanted whatever name made you happy,” she said.

“I know. I did mention to him I had a list of
boy and girl names, but if it was a boy, I wasn’t going to name him John.” I laughed, remembering the conversation and the look on John’s face.

“He’s your child, honey,” Lisa said. “He’s yours to name.”

“So what’s it going to be?” Liz asked.

“He’s going to be John,” I said, holding him up in the air. “John Kane, Jr.”