We’ve come so far through all this. We have plans. Please come back to me.
This anxiety is killing me, but writing down these thoughts to you really helps me.
Jaxson is gone. I am so lost. The house is so quiet without him. The lack of his presence has left a hole in my heart. I’m never getting another dog again.
There are several more entries, which I read through. I can’t stop sobbing. I had no idea she was so worried. She did a good job fooling me.
I finally get to the last one. It is clear by her words that this was written on or a few days before her accident.
This deployment is almost over, only two more weeks. I still have feelings that I will never see you again, and I pray we get through these last days unscathed. But, Jake, if something should befall us, whether it is you or me, I want you to know I love you with all my heart. We have had a wonderful life, and I would not trade a minute of it. You are the one thing I can never replace. I love you, Jake.
She knew. Somehow, someway, Jayden knew something was going to happen. And I was clueless.
Oh God, I miss her.
I wipe tears from my face and lie on the bed. I reach my arm to her side, hoping I can feel her there, but the sheets are cold. I quickly recoil my arm back and settle myself into a fetal position. I cry myself to sleep, praying I dream of Jayden.
***
Mom says I slept for two days straight. I have no recollection. The only thing running through my head in a constant circle isJayden is gone.
Dad made all the arrangements with Martin’s Funeral Home with one day of viewing and the service the following morning. The casket will be closed. The damage to her head and face was so extensive, even the mortician couldn’t fix it. Besides, the last thing I want to have as my last memory of my beautiful wife is of her lying cold in a casket. I am still trying to erase the memory of her lying in that hospital bed by forcing myself to remember her from the day I left.
I spend my days at the funeral home staring at the casket while our friends and family members offer their deepest sympathies and condolences. I feel like a robot, just going through the motions, desperately trying to hold it together when all I want to do is scream.
With this last trip to the funeral home, my beautiful and amazing wife will finally be laid to rest. And all I can think is,I wanna go with her.
I would never take my own life though. Life is a gift from God and is precious, but I can’t help thinking,If humans are meant to love and be loved, how do I move on when I’m standing at the grave of my soul mate? Our two hearts beat as one. Can the heart ever heal when all it beat for has gone away?
In that moment, lost in thought while my wife’s casket is lowered into the ground, I realize I have to go on.I have to live in her loving memory and still do everything we had planned. But how? I know what I have to do. I know what I must do. But I can’t help but wonder if the sun will ever shine again and break through this horrible storm cloud of grief.I imagine only time will tell.
Once the service is over, we head back to Mom and Dad’s house. There are tons of people there and more food than I could imagine. Why is it when someone dies, people bring food? It’s a nice gesture, but the last thing I want to do is eat. I think in the past four days, I’ve probably eaten the equivalent of one actual meal. Mom is always insisting I eat, so I take a bite here and there to make her happy, but when I do eat, the food sits in the pit of my stomach and makes me feel ill.
Some of the guys and their families from my unit came to the service, as well as many aunts, uncles, and cousins of Jayden’s and mine. I think our families must have booked every hotel room in town.
***
As days and weeks pass after Jayden’s death, I go through many emotions.
It was supposed to be so simple: the last tour and, a few weeks later, retirement from the air force. I’m still too young to retire completely, but I had an easy nine-to-five job lined up with no traveling, which meant no time away from Jayden. We worked so hard to get through the deployments so we could spend the rest of our lives together. We had a plan, a plan we worked so hard for and, at times, struggled through.
And in no time at all, in exactly twelve minutes, it was all gone.
I spend my days in a fog. They say there are stages of grief. I don’t know if that is true or not, but I do know the gaping hole in my heart won’t ever go away. I tried to pretend it never happened, that it’s all a dream and I’m gonna come home and find her sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee and doing a crossword puzzle. But every day I walk into an empty house, and it’s always the same. No Jayden, no cup of coffee, and no crossword puzzle.
My retirement is next week. I declined the nine-to-five job I had lined up here in Maryland and decided to move back home. Mom and Dad are there, Jayden’s dad is there, and most importantly, Jayden is there. I know she would want me to look after her dad, and I know my parents will be glad to have me around again.
I bought a cute little house in the country, just like Jayden and I always talked about. It’s about twenty minutes from our families, but it is much closer than we have been for the last several years. Everything has already been moved, and I’m spending my last few days here in the barracks until I retire. Then I am done with everything here and all the bad memories.
Grief is not neat or linear. While everyone suffers grief once in their lifetime, it is different for everyone. It has no bounds. It doesn’t follow a timeline or schedule. I’ve suffered so many emotions since Jayden’s death. Besides the fact that I would cry for days at a time, feelings of anger, withdrawal, and emptiness consume me. There are times I want to punch something or someone, like the damn drunk driver who killed my wife, but he’s already dead. And there are other times I want to crawl into a hole and die.
Roger and Sharon have been great friends, and when I leave Maryland and Andrews Air Force Base, I will miss them the most. When the movers were taking the last load of stuff out of the house, we stood on the front walk and talked. They both asked how I was doing, and I replied that I have some good days and bad days. I’m sure they didn’t want to hear the range of emotions I have been experiencing.
Then Sharon said something I hadn’t thought of. “Jake, why don’t you see a counselor? It might help.” Her words have been with me ever since, and I have already made an appointment with a psychologist who specializes in dealing with grief back home. I’m not hopeful, but I have to do something.
***
My retirement ceremony was like every other retirement ceremony I’ve had to sit through for the last twenty years. It was nothing really special, just a lot of pomp and circumstance, but it is over, and I am back home. I’ve spent a lot of time fixing up the house I bought. I put a new front porch in with rocking chairs, just like Jayden had always wanted. Every time we would go to Cracker Barrel, she would say she always wanted a big front porch with those damn rocking chairs, so I had to do it. I adopted another dog, and she has been my constant companion for the last few months. She’s a mutt but the cutest thing ever. Her name is Katie, and I believe she is smarter than me at times.
