Grace
March 15, 2020
The next letter arrived almost a month later, along with one for mom. I tore into it eagerly, as I hadn’t heard from Kelly in forever.
“Mom!” I called. “He wrote!” She hurried into the room, her eyes wide.
“To me, too?” She asked. I nodded and pulled the letter out of the envelope. I gobbled up his words like I would grandma’s cherry cobbler.
My Gracie.
I love you. So much. I hope you know this. And I hope you do not let this stop you. I am so, so sorry I will not be there to see you succeed. I have hoped to come home soon because it is a hope of mine to grow up with you and watch you grow and learn and wish and dream. I owe you everything.
If you are reading this, it is because… Well. At the beginning of our training, we wrote letters to our families in case we didn’t make it home. This is that letter. I am so, so sorry Gracie. I love you. But I will not be coming home.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I miss you and I am sorry again.
Love you, Kelly.
Mom trembled from head to toe. Her smile was gone, her laughing wrinkled replaced with worry. Her eyes were wide and shocked. She cried.
“No,” she whispered quietly. “My baby. No.”
I finished reading, my eyes wide and scared.
Then I screamed. Loud and guttural, I screamed.
The world spun.
My mom grabbed my hand and we clung to each other.
She was all I had left.
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March 16, 2020
“Oh, baby.” My mother’s voice was soft and quiet. She rubbed my back slowly, sighing.
“Is it real?” I asked, wishing for the answer that I knew she would not give.
“Yes, honey. It’s real.” She sounded desperate, as if she were also wishing for otherwise. I cried into my pillow, a mess of snot and tears. “I’m so, so sorry, love,” she sighed.
But sorry didn’t help.
It didn’t bring him back.
“Oh, Kelly,” I sobbed. “I never even got to say goodbye.” She smiled sadly.
“Nor did I, sweetheart. But Kelly knows you love him,” she assured me.
That didn’t help much, either, though.
I reached beneath my pillow for his former notes. I fished out the goodbye letter and swiftly ripped it in half. Mom gasped. I took the bottom half–the second paragraph and signature–and crumpled it. I tossed it to the floor before folding the other half neatly and placing it back under my pillow.
“Are you okay?” Mom asked, but I didn’t answer. I stood and walked over to my desk. I pulled two papers from a drawer and grabbed some pens. I brought them back to my bed and plopped down with them in my hand. I passed mom a paper and a pen, then picked out my own, choosing my words carefully. Then I began writing the letter that would never be delivered.
Kelly,
I miss you so much. It is even harder now that I know you aren’t coming home. I am working through the pain along with mom. However, nothing we say or do can ever bring you back. I wish it could. Nothing helps my sadness nor my longing for you to be here. With us.
Though I know you won’t ever receive this letter, I need you to know that I love you. And I miss you. And this is a safe way for me to deliver those words; no matter if you’ll ever read them or not. Everything is so much harder without you. And dad. It feels as though I’ve lost so much more than the both of you. Though I guess I have; I’ve lost my brother–my confidant. My best friend. And I really, really wish I hadn’t.
I love you so, so much. I miss you so, so much. I wish you were here.
-Gracie
Mom watched over my shoulder as I wrote. I finished the letter and folded it up. Then I put it under my pillow with the others. She took my hand and squeezed it before she turned to write her own. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she wrote.
Son,
I cannot believe you are gone. It feels like only yesterday you were learning to walk and speak. I went from ‘mama’ to ‘mother’ too fast. I wish I could have watched you grow. I wish I could have watched you learn and succeed. I wanted to watch you marry. I wanted to spoil my grandbabies. I wanted to love you until the end of time. And I will. No matter where you are, I will always love you.
You have a special place in my heart, you and your sister do. I love you both so much. I will spend the rest of my life loving you. And missing you. And wishing you were here.
I love you, Popkin. Always have and always will. Love,
Mama.
I wiped a tear from her cheek though I sobbed with her. She folded it and squeezed my hand. She kissed it and then kissed the note. I cried into her shoulder and wished for Kelly. I was sure she was doing the same.
“I love you, mom.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
March 21, 2020
At 11:46 came a package. It had been sent from the military. I was nervous as I watched mom open it. She pulled out first a camouflage uniform, which must have been Kelly’s before… Then came his training outfit. The white shirt was stained in places, dirty and honestly kind of smelly. The pants matched the uniform, a version of jeans only camouflaged and green. The belt was long and black, and it reminded me of a sort of whip. The next thing out of the box was a hard plastic, the same green as the pants. The cap had a dent in it, which I realized with a pang was a bullet wound.
The cause of my brother’s death.
I almost screamed; almost ripped it from my mother’s hands and tossed it in the trash. Instead I reached into the box and pulled out an envelope.
“Another letter?” Mom wondered. I shook my head.
“I don’t think so.” I opened the envelope and retrieved the papers from inside. “They’re pictures.” I shuffled through them, a mix of him and Jayson and us. The first was of him in his uniform, his hand to his head in a salute. His face was serious but I could tell he was suppressing a smile. I handed the picture to mom to examine and moved on to the next one.
He and Jayson side by side in their uniform. Jayson looked nervous but had a smile on his face. Kelly had an arm linked through his and was laughing. I could imagine Jayson’s laugh a moment later. I was upset that it wasn’t in the picture as I handed it to mom and looked for the next one.
Me, mom, and Kelly at the beach. The picture was from at least nine years ago. Kelly was maybe nine or ten. I was like five. I wished with all my heart that we could go back to then, when we were together and whole. I was soaked from head to toe and laughing. Kelly was busy tickling me. Mom was taking the picture and smiling.
I moved on and handed the photo to mom, who sniffled. The next photo… I gasped as I pulled it out.
“Daddy,” I whispered. Mom peeked over my shoulder and gasped.
“Thomas,” she mumbled, wiping a tear from my cheek. Dad stood alone in his military uniform. He had an arm to his head in a salute. It was similar to the picture of Kelly, only dad was far more serious.
The final picture was taken almost twelve years ago. I was a baby, Kelly was like five. Mom stood holding me. Kelly was tickling my feet. I was asleep and drooling. Dad was smiling and holding Kelly’s hand. It was back from the time it was all of us. Complete and whole. I miss those days.
I couldn’t help it. I cried. And when I handed her the photo, mom did, too.
And so we sat and cried together, our minds on the past.
March 27, 2020
I sat silently, staring at the mirror before me. I was dressed in all black, a lacy dress and a thick headband. I had on black flats and looked really cute. I only wished it could have been for a better occasion. I took a deep breath and joined mom in the living room. She was wearing a tight black dress, very different from the flowy lace design of mine. She wore black boots and had her hair in a tight bun rather than having her hair down like me. To be honest, though, my hair was only down to hide the tears I knew would fall.
“You look amazing,” Mom complimented me as I walked in.
“Thanks,” I smiled sadly. “You, too.”
Her responding smile was just as fake as mine. She grabbed her keys and joined me. She hugged me tightly and grabbed my hand. She sighed and opened the door, leading me out to the car. I dropped into the front seat hesitantly.
“It’s okay, baby,” mom said, rubbing my hand.
“I know,” I lied, nodding. Then she gripped the steering wheel and started the car.74Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSdC6AcRZOl
The drive was an hour at most, but it felt much, much longer. I spent the whole time trying not to cry. It became harder and harder with every passing second. We pulled slowly into the lot and gathered ourselves before we left the car and started to the cemetery. I stumbled as I walked, shaky with nerves.
“Are you ready?” I asked her as we pushed open the gate. She shook her head.
“I have tried so, so hard to prepare myself for this day,” she admitted. “Yet I still can’t believe we are here.” I nodded in agreement.
“Neither can I.”
She sighed and grabbed my hand again. I clenched hers tight, and we went in together. The officiant greeted us with a sad smile and explained how this would work.
“The people will arrive soon, offering their condolences. You will accept them and then we should begin the burial shortly.” Mom nodded when he had finished and turned to me. She leaned down and put her mouth to my ear.
“Strong,” she whispered. I nodded.
“You are,” I agreed quietly. “You’ve got this.”
“No,” she corrected me softly. “You are strong. We are.” She hugged me tightly and sighed. “I love you,” she breathed.
“We’ve got this,” I assured her in a whisper. She nodded.
March 28, 2020
I hadn’t been to a funeral before. It was… depressing. I spent the whole thing biting back tears and failing. People came and offered apologies and condolences, both friends and strangers. I knew only half of them. At most.
The hardest part had been the burial. It was weird because we had nothing to bury but his uniform. We had hidden in his coffin his camouflage pants and uniform, along with his belt and white shirt. Also hit boots. I had held onto his cap, however. I had it displayed on my shelf, an honor of my brother’s bravery and my longing for him to come back. I had also kept his photographs. I now had a notebook of him. His photographs, the letters he wrote to me, the letters I wrote to him. I had created another, too.
Kelly.
Your funeral was today. So many people came to mourn you and miss you, but none could miss you as much as I do. You have no idea how lonely it is here without you. It is far too quiet at home and never the same as when you were here. It is twice as bad as when you were in the military, though. Then I had hope of you coming home. Now I know you won’t be.
I miss you so much, and I love you even more. I wish you were here. It’s not the same without you.
Love, Gracie
I hadn’t seen mom grieve yet. I spent every passing second mourning and wishing and hoping. Every day for her was spent with distraction; dinner, laundry, the dishes. It looked exhausting.
“Can you help me out, love?” She asked me as she brought the dishes to the sink.
“Mmhmm.”
“Fetch me your brother’s laundry hamper; his room smells like old socks!” She laughed, but it sounded forced. I left the room in a hurry and brought back the basket moments later. Then I locked myself in my room for the rest of the night.
April 3, 2020
I hadn’t cried since the funeral. I was proud of this; it felt big considering what had happened. I have spent most of my nights alone in my room, writing letters to Kelly in my notebook. I finished my letter quickly and signed it with the nickname Kelly would never again use. I glanced at the clock. Eleven twenty-six. I sighed and tiptoed to the living room. The lights were on and so was the TV. Mom was asleep on the couch. She had a pen in her hand and there was paper on the floor. I picked up the paper and placed it on the table next to an empty glass. I placed the pen on top and reached for the blanket on the floor. I started to drape it over her but stopped in my tracks when I noticed the first word on the paper. I realized quickly that it was a note. I put the blanket on her and bent to read it.
My Popkin,
I miss you. I wish you were still here. This is so much harder than when I lost your father. Your sister misses you every day. As do I, but I need to be strong for her. We both know I’m not as strong as I am trying to be. I don’t think I’m helping her nerves. I’ve refrained from calling her Gracie-Pacey, Gracie, or even Grace. After her reaction the other day, I have decided to stick with names such as ‘hun’, ‘love’, and ‘baby’. I wish I had a name for her as I do–did– for you.
Love you, mommy.
I hadn’t realized she had been writing to him, too. But I guess I should have.
I guess I wasn’t the only one struggling.
I left to my room and there I wept silently, wishing for Kelly. It would take a miracle to get him home. I told myself,
Miracles do happen.
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