I see you. I watched the ventilator making your head jolt every few seconds.
I’m sitting against the wall, fatigued from driving from North Carolina and drinking bitter coffee to dehydrate my eyes.
I get an unexplainable feeling in my stomach when visiting hospitals and prisons. We’ve had many moments to be patient and a lot of praying in my little heart for my brother and mother. No prayers for her to live as it wasn’t a part of the plan. Sometimes we pray for the things we want, but that wasn’t a part of the plan for God. The harsh and painful reality is when we discuss God’s plan and hear what people want in life, someone will have unanswered prayers they would have been thankful for. I could understand how atheists began their walk. I have many questions for God for all my sacrifices, and I’m sitting here with the same desires. You’ve been knocking to answer them, but I’ve been staring at the door. I hear your messengers, and I marvel at how inspiring they are. I know it’s on me, and I’m stuck in this repeating trance.
I’m sitting in the hall and falling asleep, hearing the flatline knocking me conscious, and I see the prevailing heart cease. Heaven or hell, I can’t tell. I don’t want to listen to the condolences; I don’t want to hear the advice. I don’t want to listen to the world. I didn’t want to hear Christians and psalms verses. I wanted to feel your warm embrace as I stood near the sliding glass door between us. Instead, I felt the cold space between us, and I teared up and understood that this was part of life. I knew I would be reminded of the tiny little deaths over the years that I existed. The moments that cut me when I envision myself at certain milestones she won’t be a part of. Introducing a love, marriage, receiving my degree and commissioning as an officer, my excitement as a father, or seeing her sons under the same roof again. Tiny little deaths and reliving that moment.
This particular end,
end of a story. End of a precious life.
I don’t know where the beginning begins. When I left the hospital or returned to the duty station? I acted like nothing had happened. Continuing college, martial arts, and lifting others up. I thought of the psychologist’s question, “Did you have enough time to grieve?” I smiled and asked, “Is a lifetime enough?” The psychologist looks into my eyes and says, “Do you need to come back” “No, I’m singing the same tune, and everyone’s heard it. I just wanted to make sure I’m good and not have a negative influence on my marines, thank you”. Did I determine myself out of therapy? Because people want to see those overcome loss, wake up at 4am, be productive, and achieve results, I’m sitting here with all this pride. “No one cares, work harder” or “fuck yes, winning fucking matters.” “No love. No love. No love.” That’s what repeated in my head, and I signed up for two more years of pride and pain. Rationally I knew the correct answer. But, emotionally, my heart was begging. The world became loud, and I want to sit alone, peering at the stars, stuck in this imaginable moment with you. Not as crisp in reality or memory.
Maybe it begins now. I’ll open the door and ask that you fill my heart. Because the world consumes. I’ll keep giving so the world can consume me. Reality is catching up from my youth, and I wasn’t meant to pursue happiness; I was meant to pursue purpose. You told me I would lead the next generation of men a long time ago. I’m going to fulfill that vision. This time though, I won’t expect the desires of my heart to be answered. I won’t expect anything in return. But, if you allow my burning passion to blaze and influence or allow it to diminish, I will live forward regardless. You showed me your unconditional love with the loss of your son. All the pain you possessed, you did not give to the world. All the pain that my brothers possessed, they will not deliver to the world. All the pain that I possess, I will not deliver to the world. We have other gifts to deliver to the world and intend to fulfill this.
Inspired Knight 