Page 86 of Salute, To Bravery
Now, I’m left with nothing but an echo of laughter that feels like a distant memory, my sister left in unimaginable agony knowing his sacrifice was for her. Guilt floods my thoughts, a tidal wave of what-ifs and could-have-beens. If only I had reacted faster, if only I had been the one to shield her, I could have shouldered that burden for her. But the past is immutable, and the burden of survival is heavy.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulls me back to the present, a reminder that I’m not alone in this sterile hell. Nurses come and go, their faces a blur as they check my vitals and offer hollow reassurances. I appreciate their concern, but their questions feel invasive, as if they’re peeling back layers of my grief before I’m ready to share. I want to scream at them, to tell them that they’ll never understand, that no amount of therapy can heal the wounds I carry.
Nothing will ever make this right. Tears stream down my face, knowing there is nothing I can do, knowing that if I had the choice, I would choose my sister over him.
He is just one of many brothers I have lost since joining the military; it never gets easier. I can’t let this take me down. I have fought in hundreds of missions, but the mental one will always be the hardest.
I have to try and fight to live, fight for the life I still have, fight and live for those who can’t.
Chapter Three.
Jane
Aweek after the call,I finally got all the details about where he will be.I booked the first flight to Walter Reed, knowing my mother-in-law could take care of the kids until I had more information, then once things settled the kids could join us for a few visits. Craig’s medical situation was beyond dire, and I need to be there.
Once I flew in, I found out more information—that he was injured two weeks ago, but had to wait until he was stable enough to be transported from Germany. There were complications from his wounds, and small infections and shrapnel made for a longer recovery. The impact of the IED had ripped apart his lower body, leaving behind a trail of devastation. I still hadn’t heard from my sister-in-law, something that just kept gnawing at me.
From the brief conversations with Craig, I found out she and Brandon were there. His best friend hadn’t made it out, and truthfully, I was worried about Rei. She wasn’t just my sister by marriage; she was my best friend and the only sister I have known. She didn’t have to do this alone, but what did I knowabout how these things went or how many rules she had broken making sure I was notified.
“How is he doing today?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The stark white walls seem to close in around us, as if they, too, are eager for an answer. A beep from one of the nearby machines adds to the tense atmosphere, reminding me of the fragility of life.
“Hopefully, this was the last surgery needed. At this point, he should be in the clear. It will be another week or so before we can discharge him from the hospital. But this is only the beginning. His wounds will need to heal, and with cases like these, sometimes the mental battle is the hardest,” the doctor continues, his gaze steady and serious.
I nod, pretending to understand what comes next. There’s no guidebook for situations like these, but in the week I have been here, the injured wife’s group has been extremely helpful in navigating everything.
Between them and frantically searching the internet for advice on how to support him, reading every book on the long flight over and during my stay at Fisher House, a residence for families of injured soldiers, providing them a place to stay while their loved ones recover from the consequences of war.
The nurse remains by his bedside after the doctor takes his leave, adjusting the machines and administering more fluids through his IV. The sterile smell of antiseptic hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the anxiety clinging to my chest.
“If you keep staring at her, it’s not going to give you the power to make her disappear,” Craig’s hoarse voice breaks the silence, startling everyone in the room.
I can hardly believe it. Throughout our marriage, he has always had the ability to sneak up on me and catch me off guard. But then he would wrap his arms around me, calming my nerves, reminding me that everything would be okay. Nothingwas ever going to be the same. Already he was more distant than normal. Between all the appointments and investigation still being conducted, he kept me away. I felt like I already lost a piece of him, that he wasn’t the man I knew anymore.
His wild hair—longer on the top and shorter on the sides—frames his sculpted face, while the nurses have shaved off his beard before surgery. Pieces of steri-bandages cover small cuts, and a large bandage obscures a cut on his forehead. His rugged and weathered appearance exudes an air of unwavering strength and resilience.
Every line etched on his face tells a story of survival and determination, but it is his piercing deep blue eyes that truly captivate me, drawing me in with their depth and intensity. They hold the weight of a thousand experiences, and I can’t help but stop in my tracks as they meet mine. Falling in love with him all over again. This is the man I married.
“Hey, beautiful. Before you get mad at me, you should see the other guy,” he says with a hint of playfulness, causing me to burst into laughter despite the tears hovering just beneath the surface.
“You’re impossible,” I tease back, feeling a flicker of relief. For all the worry and fear I’ve been drowning in, hearing him crack a joke makes me feel like I can breathe again. Maybe all of him wasn’t lost after all. I can’t help but smile in return, but then his expression drops to a grimace. “Are you okay?” Asking while rushing over to him.
“Yes,” he assures me quickly, trying to brush off any concern. Forever the tough man, it seriously was a Scott family trait and the worst of them all.
“Then what is it?” I persisted, wanting to understand what is bothering him. After a moment of hesitation, he dismisses my concern, “It’s nothing, just tired. It’s been a crazy few weeks.”
And just like that, he closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts and worries.
“Just be patient with him,” the gentle voice of the nurse breaks through the tense atmosphere. “He’s one of the toughest patients I’ve ever had.”
“That’s what worries me,” I admit, my words and tears escaping before I can even process them, wiping them away and shoving my feelings as far down as possible. “It’s a family trait.” I feel completely helpless sitting here, guessing at how I can help him. It’s not just a personal struggle for him; it affects our relationship, too. His stubbornness is like a brick wall, making it impossible for us to move forward.
Day after day, I sit at his side, making sure he knows I’m there for him. And day after day, he pretends nothing is wrong. I see the pain etched on his face and in his eyes, but he never admits to it, always claiming it’s just because he’s tired. He hardly lets me hold his hand and gets angry if I offer to help him with anything. Things have changed for both of us.
Something the wives from the wounded warrior support group keep reminding me of. But he needs to let me in, to stop shouldering whatever it is on his own.
Each night after I leave the hospital and crawl into an empty bed, the tears fall freely as I cry myself to sleep, barely able to control the spiral of emotion, pain, and despair. There is no more intimacy of any kind; our connection is holding on by mere threads, both of us trying to navigate the way back to each other through the unknown. How do I help him if he won’t let me?
I don’t have all the details, but I overheard Craig muttering Rei’s name in his sleep, along with Brandon’s. He needs to stop trying to be so stoic and let me help. I know losing Brandon caused a pain I can never fully comprehend. They were more than friends; they had a bond stronger than brothers. When I arrived, the investigation team questioned him relentlessly, butthen Rei stepped in, and she must have said something powerful because they backed off immediately, giving a small reprieve. She disappeared before I could even question her about what happened.
