Jenn's Reverie

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

He once said. . .

in yet another anticipated e-mail, “But other then my sweet sorrow, yesterday is gone, just waiting for tomorrow.” As though to make it a joke, he then said, “See, see, see, I can be a poet!” This sentence he wrote, in the midst of his writing, basically “out of the blue.” After this sentence, he then continued on with the e-mail as he had started it, as though nothing was wrong. It saddened me when I read this, and does ‘til this day. It’s the one e-mail I haven’t deleted, the one that wanders my mind. What’s he trying to tell me? Was it really a joke? Is he losing his mind out there? Does he sit in silence, in his sweet sorrow? He’s fighting a war, for “our” freedom “they” say. Am I pro for this war, am I con? Is there and can there be a feeling of in-between when it comes to death? War is death, in my little head. And I know that the only thing that we’re guaranteed in life is death. But what ARE we dying for out there? What IS the sole purpose of this undesired war? Is there a sole purpose? Freedom? Are we not free? Have we ever been? A plethora of questions, an answer to none. I can’t even begin to fathom his questions and thoughts. Nor would I begin to try. I know I’d have to go through what he has to have any idea. The last time I heard from him was on Mother’s Day. A phone call that sadly I missed. He left a brief message wishing me a happy mother’s day. Leaving me with a feeling of emptiness, with emotions of all kinds. Joy to hear his voice and know that he’s alive; sadness to think that he still makes time to wish ME a happy mother’s day. He’s over there for me, for us, with thoughts of his demise, and still he doesn’t put himself first. He’s told me that his everyday now is only to survive. He and the rest out there, who fight for us to live even as we do even right now. And still we complain. Who are we to complain? What gives us the right? Our “freedom”? I’ve noticed that recently I don’t want to go out or have fun. I started to question myself, given I’m a very out-going person. I then started to realize that he’s out there with his life on the line and I’m here having a drink, laughing amongst friends. Then I heard someone say, ‘we have to go on with our lives, that’s why they’re out there,' a statement that puzzled my thoughts. Is that how they feel, is that what they’d want? Well, I know him well and I know that’s what he’d want. So I try to “go on.” It’s not easy to do. It’s all over the news; it’s everywhere you turn. The news was nothing I’d ever paid attention to before this war. Now I find my self buried in the stories of the recent fallen soldiers. With chills running up my spine, I read about the fallen soldier whose only dream was to have a house and a family, a dream that will never be. Tears fill my eyes as I continue to read, his pregnant wife gave birth to their daughter 3 months after his death. The chills don’t stop as I read about the soldier who gave up fortune, fame and his life for us. Well Simon was out there for a year and has made it home. Now I await the return of Angelo. I no longer look at Simon as just another good friend. When I look at him I see a hero, a man with no end. His whole hearted smile and his kind, silly words. After what he has seen and what he has been through he is still the strong personality I knew before he went there. Also the man in my good friend’s life, she who waited faithfully all that time. When Angelo comes home, another hero I shall know. An Angel in my life is what he has come to be.

In My Silent Reverie…

posted by Jenn Doll at 6:30 PM

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