Her Last Love Letter

3:30am, I stir in my sleep. Maybe you came to bed already? But my outstretched arm feels no warm body and finds only a cold empty space...

I can see light dancing on the wall coming from the living room as it's reflecting the TV’s flickering images. I slip from your bed and quietly make my way to the living room. As I approach the sofa I already know the scene that awaits. There bathed in the light of the television you are slumped to one side, passed out, empty vodka bottle spilled across your lap while your hand is still clinging to the empty glass. I take a moment to regard this sight putting aside the conflict of emotions I am experiencing (sorrow, anger, love, pity, frustration) and sigh. You look so vulnerable, almost fragile yet strong, and I curse the demons that haunt you so. I know you are so far away from those demons right now but you are also so far away from me right now. 

Leaning forward I take the glass in my hand and gently rub your leg "Sweetheart....babe....come to bed” I speak softly so as not to startle you. The grip on your glass grows tight again and you groan some incomprehensible words of objection. I make my appeal again “its 3:30....come to bed... please”. This time your eyes open briefly, and you utter, “I’ll be right there..... I'll be right there” and you close your eyes again. 

Knowing that you will not "be right there" I turn off the TV, feeling helpless and hopeless I admit defeat and retreat back up to your bed. Sometime later you will find your way to your bed; too drunk to be troubled by the horrific nightmares.

Sleep well my love, sleep well. 

This was her last love letter to me. I guess to outside eyes this doesn't really qualify as a true love letter but to me this is. You see this was the girl back home, she waited for me, she wrote me and she kept her promises to me. After I finally came back "home" we moved in together and she was going to help me get my life started again but it didn't work out that way. I don't blame her and I am not angry at her. Everyone has a limit and I finally pushed her away. She went to some of my therapy appointments and even went through a support group with me. There were husbands that were there without their wives and here was this girl who knew nothing of the Army world and the horrors I had seen was willing to stand by my side while others wives couldn't be there. I loved her for sticking with me. It was there in that support group that it was suggested she also keep a journal of sorts, something to let me read when my mind was clear so that I could understand how it felt to be her. This was her last entry before she moved out, before she had enough, before she couldn't prop me up any longer. I am not angry, it was 2 years of those nights, some better, some worse but they all took their toll. She is still my friend and I know that if I need something I can call her but I won't. 


I love her, I always will but I am not that boy who left with promises of getting married and starting a family. I am forever different and I am working on determining who I am now.