Page 1 of See You Soon
Chapter1
ari
"My baby is dead! Not my baby, please! Not my baby! Ay Dios Mio! Mi hijo! Oh my God, my son!" My mother’s aching voice screamed over and over again, the voice of a mother who had just been told her firstborn child was dead. My brother, a Navy SEAL, dead at age 30. It was a memory I would never be able to shake. The look on her face, as if the blood had been drained leaving a pale reflection, the terror and agony in her voice, was terrifying and would traumatize me for the rest of my life. The sound was so terrifying I wanted so badly to cover my ears with my hands to drown her out. She was in pain, and I instantly feared for her health. To see my mother who never cries, always so positive, just completely break into a billion pieces as I held her while also trying to process the news myself.
My older brother was dead.
Every time I step into his untouched bedroom at our house, like right now, my mind goes back to that day. I open the door to his room as if expecting to see him on his bed practicing new music and the memories catch up to me, flashing me back to that day when two uniformed men knocked on our door.
I don't know how but, at that moment, seeing my mom completely fall apart, killed me, but it also changed me. I had to fake my strength at that moment to be strong for my mother. I so badly wanted to fall apart as well but I am the only person left to take care of her, to be strong for her when she can't for herself. I silently hold her in my arms, brushing her peppered black and gray hair with the palm of my hand. She continued to wail and make incomprehensible sounds in my chest.
I decided the best thing I could do at that moment was to pray to her. The rosary. My mom had raised us to be religious and to go to God for everything, and live our lives by His commandments. Deep down inside, I had some different views when it came to Catholicism, but never expressed my views to her, avoiding her disappointment.
Gunshot wound to the chest. Gunshot wound to the right leg. Gunshot wound to the neck. The cause of death was blood loss. Paul bled out before he could make it back to the hospital. I cringed trying my hardest to snap out of the horrid memory that haunts me. As I stared at him in his casket, dressed in his uniform, laying there dead, I had the overwhelming urge to shake him. Shake him awake because they did so well covering his wounds he just looked like he was sleeping. I wanted to punch him in the shoulder like I always did and tell him to stop faking. Stop joking around because this wasn't fucking funny. I so badly wanted to but all I could do was cry until I felt sick and drained. The only positive thing I could think of was that his death only ensured I made the right choice in becoming a nurse.
I initially wanted to be a pediatric nurse, but after my brother’s death, I knew I needed to be a trauma nurse.
Sometimes, Paul's military friends come by the house whenever they're not working or have the time and they’ll check on us to see how we're doing. I never pay them any mind as it still hurts to see them able to come home in one piece with a beating heart, but my brother would never again. I was jealous, angry and I knew it was dark but why did it have to be my brother?
Why?
One of his friends named Kane, would always try and make conversation with me. Always doing little things here and there like doing chores around the house or small talk with my mother… to make up for Paul's loss and I despised it. There's nothing no one could do to make this loss hurt any less. My best friend would never return. He was supposed to walk me down the aisle when I got married. My video gaming partner.My protector.The man of the house.
My brother was a good simple man. He had the purest heart. The only downfalls of his character were his stubbornness and black-and-white mentality. But he always made sure my mother and I were always taken care of financially when he entered the military. His morals were a big part of his character, leading to him always putting others before himself.
It hurts so much and it feels wrong to go on without him. I witnessed my mom almost die from a heart attack when she received the news. I wanted to die too but we both have to find a way to go through this grief without harming ourselves. I must find a way to go on, and if I have to fake my strength… I will. If I have to push through and place my own needs last, then that's what I'll do.
Paul would not allow my mom to torture herself with grief every day but how do you tell a mother to move on? I wouldn't dare.
Still, I haven't let myself scream since that day when that's all I want to do. I'm trying so hard not to implode, break, or shatter my beliefs in Catholicism.
I snap out of my thoughts when my phone buzzes. Still staring at my brother’s room, a Sublime tapestry over his headboard. Bookshelves on one side of the wall. His Gaming PC is on another side. A soccer ball sits in the corner along with his guitar. Everything is clean and organized. My mother takes it upon herself to clean his room every weekend as if he was still here to inhabit it. She would even grab a pile of clothes from his closet and wash it, fold it, then put it back as she used to do all the time for him when he was home.
When he was alive.
She still can’t let him go but it’s to be expected, he was only buried two months ago. I guess it's therapeutic for her, so I never say a word.
I finally grab a hold of my cell phone to find a text from Meredith letting me know she's outside my house waiting for me. She's been one of my closest friends since high school.
I've passed all my exams and licenses to practice as a registered nurse and I just signed my first contract to start practicing. I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm going to sooner or later. I won't stress about that tonight, as this night was about celebration.
* * *
Country Music plays loud through my ears and chest and the air smells like cigarettes and alcohol. My kind of place after a stressful week of impactful decisions. A Friday night out with my best friend is just the perfect way to start the celebration that she's completely unaware of. We're in one of the most popular country bars in the city and we have our cowboy boots on, ready to dance the night away.
"How does it feel to finally say, you're a Registered Nurse?" Meredith shouts over the music while cheering her beer to mine. Our beers collide loud and we both chug a bit of it down.
"My God, it doesn't even feel real yet. It’s surreal." I exclaim with pure joy. I'm smiling ear to ear while my long black hair jumps up and down as we dance.
Meredith and I did everything together since High School. We’ve been best friends ever since we sat down next to each other at lunch one day during our freshman year. As scared, lost, fourteen-year-old strangers, we looked at each other hesitantly before we sat down at an empty table. We hit it off instantly. After bonding over our favorite tv-shows, we became closer than ever.
"I need to get another drink; I'll be right back." I practically yell into Meredith's ear making sure she can hear me. She nods, acknowledging me.
The bar is packed. Full of heartbroken, single, and even married people just looking to let loose tonight. I quickly reach the bartender and ask for a strawberry daiquiri. The bartender immediately asks me for my identification.
He probably thinks I look sixteen. I don't blame him, my short 5'1 height doesn't help, and the youthful skin genes I get from my mom. I pull out my ID and the bartender nods as he confirms I'm of legal drinking age.
I’m twenty-two years old and still, get asked if I want a kid’s menu when I go to restaurants. I sit down on a bar stool as I wait for my drink. "Wagon Wheel" begins to play and I can't help but move my body to the beat of the song. An enormous western neon cattle skull is placed in the middle of the wall across from me. I'm so busy thinking about the big decision I recently made,secretly,last weekend that I don't notice a man sitting next to me, staring. I haven’t told anyone just yet, but this big decision is so important to me that I didn't want anyone’s opinions or judgments to deter me from my happiness.
