That’s exactly what I was thinking when I heard his phone ring and my husband jumped out of bed. Even still, I fell back asleep. It was just a few minutes later that he came in and sat next to me, put his hand on my hip, and told me “Joe tried to overdose a few days ago. He was in the ICU, and was released today. He overdosed again when he got home and now he’s on life support. X is forwarding us his wife’s number. We want you to call her”
*******
*******
I don’t remember it being like this in our pre-military life…caring so deeply about, even loving, people I don’t know. I mean, I “know” Joe, but in reality, I’ve probably talked to him about a dozen times, total…ever. But that is irrelevant, because on some level I know him better than I know my own brother.
My husband has given a life to the men he’s served with in my heart and mind. I mean, I know their stories, sure. But I don’t only know them because of what my husband tells me. I also know these guys on such a more intimate level. I know the battles they’ve each fought, both away at war, and in their own personal lives at home. The PTSD, the addiction, the marital problems.
I know them because their hell at home is ours too. I know them because they fight the same demons my husband fights. I know them, because each of them owns a piece of my husband’s heart. His brothers ARE our family. Period.
And I know their wives. Some of them I’ve never spoken to. Some of them married their husbands long after we were stationed together. But I feel an even stronger bond to them, because these are the only women in this world who know who know MY hell, who share MY battles and demons.
*****
My husband has given a life to the men he’s served with in my heart and mind. I mean, I know their stories, sure. But I don’t only know them because of what my husband tells me. I also know these guys on such a more intimate level. I know the battles they’ve each fought, both away at war, and in their own personal lives at home. The PTSD, the addiction, the marital problems.
I know them because their hell at home is ours too. I know them because they fight the same demons my husband fights. I know them, because each of them owns a piece of my husband’s heart. His brothers ARE our family. Period.
And I know their wives. Some of them I’ve never spoken to. Some of them married their husbands long after we were stationed together. But I feel an even stronger bond to them, because these are the only women in this world who know who know MY hell, who share MY battles and demons.
*****
Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will call Joe’s wife. I’ve never spoken to her in my life, and quite frankly, I’m afraid. Will she be annoyed to have to deal with someone she hasn’t spoken to beyond FB? Will she resent me because my husband isn’t the one in the ICU? Will she hear the fear in my voice, talking to someone living my constant and worst nightmare?
Or will she hear the love I have for her and her husband? The sisterhood I feel? The support I’m offering? Will she know that I really do understand, and I am safe to talk to?
I’m not sure calling is the right thing to do. I’m not sure it’s what I’d want. I’m not sure what I’m going to say. But it’s what my husband and the guys would like me to do, and I would do just about anything to make this easier for any of them.
And I’ll call her, because despite the fact we’ve never met, she is a part of my family---my great big, broken, dysfunctional, but most of all loved—family.
Or will she hear the love I have for her and her husband? The sisterhood I feel? The support I’m offering? Will she know that I really do understand, and I am safe to talk to?
I’m not sure calling is the right thing to do. I’m not sure it’s what I’d want. I’m not sure what I’m going to say. But it’s what my husband and the guys would like me to do, and I would do just about anything to make this easier for any of them.
And I’ll call her, because despite the fact we’ve never met, she is a part of my family---my great big, broken, dysfunctional, but most of all loved—family.
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