We write about widowhood as we live it. Together we examine the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life as a widowed person. The views expressed here are those held by each individual author. We take no credit for their brillance; we just provide them with a forum for expressing their widowed journey in words that are uniquely their own.
Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation
▼
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Door
March 24th, 2007-
I sat in my office, blaring music and talking to a fellow Army wife on IM. Wearing my pajamas, which consisted of Michael's basic training sweatshirt, I swirled around on my wooden office chair with the sun creeping through the blinds.
Underneath the rumble of music I hear something...another noise that I soon decipher as a phone ringing.
With Michael deployed, I had to be alert to any calls that may be him calling from Baghdad, so like a robot on crack, I shut off the music, ran to the living room (which was only 4 feet away, though I felt out of breath with the possibility of hearing my love's voice), picked the cordless phone off the same red chair that Michael had proposed to me on nearly a year and a half before, and pushed the "Answer" button....
"Hello?" I say, breathing as if I'm some overweight cop who just chased down a convict.
"Baby....." And before he could get a word in I was ecstatic to hear him...my soul mate on the other line!
"Baby!!! Oh, I've missed you so much!" I say, cutting him off.
"Baby, can you open the door?" he replies.
And with a sense of panic, I lift my head to look up at the glass door, and there he is. The most perfect specimen. Six foot, 2 inches, clad in his Army Uniform, with nothing else on him but a smile looking through the pane.
I can barely breathe. Tears of happiness hit the floor and take my body down with it. I unlock the first door and lay against the wall in shock that he is here. 7 months we sat and stared at each other through computer monitors, and here he was.
"Hi, Baby." slips out of his mouth. A phrase and voice I could hear all the days of my life.
"Baby, can you unlock the screen door?" ( Because of course, I was still on the floor)
And then it happened. He walked in, picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around him. Felt him. Breathed him in.
In the tunnel vision of my love, I didn't see his family outside (which I apologize if I may have mooned), but they drifted off on the other side of the door and we were alone.
He came into our room, layed back on the bed and just looked at me, as I sat on top of him just touching his face, absorbing that he was real, he was here, and he was mine.....
It was the best thing to ever walk through that door.
as a Marine's wife, i remember waiting on those phone calls. i remember staring at the door. i remember the intense joy of seeing him again. he was safe. he was back. he was home with me, in my arms.
ReplyDeletenow, in a way, he is safe. he is back where he came from ~ in my belief, Heaven. he is home, just not our home. he's not with me. God help me, i wish i could be with him, here or there, it doesn't matter. if only God believed in negotiating.
*sobbing* as I read this... What an ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL memory!!!... Like a 'fly-on-a-wall', I felt as though I was in that room with you and 'your Michael'... I guess, I will just back out of the doorway now and let you have your moment... *sigh* ;-)
ReplyDeleteThank you womanNshadows and DeNece for your amazing comments and taking the time to relieve that memory with me.
ReplyDeleteWith love,
Taryn