A Different Kind of War Widow

The moment I met J is tattooed on the front of my mind.  That day, he sought me out, and told me that he was going to marry me.  I, having been burned once, had no interest in love, and was essentially, ice cold.  J was not shaken.  He coined this our "Day-we-met-iversary."   We became friends, and slowly but surely (through "Date-iversary,  Kiss-iversary, Engage-iversary, immediately followed by Wed-iversary) our souls were fused together permanently, and my frozen exterior and heart, melted and I was able to love with the passion that I am convinced that mostly the characters in our favorite movies love with.  As his Afghan deployment loomed, my eyes were opened, and I had no fear.  We had to get through seven short months, and the promise of the incredible life together we would share would have no further roadblocks.  J was incredible, decent, and kind, and the most influential person I have, and will ever know in my life.

Before leaving he recorded approximately three hours of himself talking to me, in clips of advice on "any little thing" I might need his take on, knowing I would not have him accessible.  These included things such as if the dog ran away, or the house burnt down, or if I lost my job.  They also included things he would want in a new house, the names he liked for our children, and his favorite meals that I prepared.

My most cherished are the recollections of our time together from the moment he saw me.  The last recording he made (used a smartphone and emailed it) was immediately after they got on the bus, but before taking off:

"The time I've spent back with you....has literally been the best time of my life...I've grown up and lived in a lot of places...and although I don't like it here...this is easily my favorite because this is where I met you.  We will always come around this area....because it's our thing.  I love you so very much and I AM coming home to you.  I am your husband, and you are my wife....and I will give you everything, and I have given you everything, and you have given me everything, and when I come home, we will live a comfortable and amazing life together.  I love you so very much, I can't express to you how much and I just know that when I come home you're going to see a different man...I'm going to look different, and I'm going to act different, but the only thing that is not going to be different, is how much I love you and how much I need to take care of you.  Because I know you deserve to be taken care of, and I deserve to be the man to take care of you.  I love you so very much <BUSSES ENGINES START IN THE BACKGROUND> and don't worry about me, I am in the best hands, the best hands of the world....and I'm coming home to you.  I love you."

Throughout his deployment, I was not aware of the combat action he was seeing, and he downplayed what he was doing.  During his stint, he suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury that left him cognitively impaired as well as Severe Post Traumatic Stress that terrorizes him on daily basis.  Outwardly, he looks no different, except the light in his eyes is gone.  Mentally, his mind is gone, similar to a state of Alzheimer's or dementia.  He is no longer capable of serving in the military, or able to work.  Sadly, after nearly two years with no improvement, and significant deterioration, he decided I should move on with my life, aware of his situation, and knowing he wasn't capable of being what I "deserve" and that I would not make this decision myself, so he was making it for me.  He believes he "died" and that if I continue to take care of his "shell" I will too.  He only asks that we can be buried together still, and that should I remarry he be able to give me away.

His recordings were prophetic at times, telling me things I needed to do, dreams to continue following, but soul was tied with his...and his is still patrolling in Afghanistan.

It is entirely impossible to grieve for a person who has stopped living, but is still breathing, in a home across town.

It is entirely impossible to imagine ever finding a love so pure and true, that it is unnecessary for me to even look.

Acceptance of the things that took place that stole my husband's life from him are possible.  I can accept he will never be "coming home."  I have difficulty accepting that I envisioned our home, children, holidays, and vacations, and these memories were stolen from us before we could have them.

I grieve for the life we did not have the time to live.  I have nothing to bury, and have to live knowing my husband is living the rest of his earthly life in limbo....and I can either continue to stop living my life....or can move on, leaving him behind.