(Part One of this story can be found
by clicking here.)
I had always believed that I was strong. I continued to believe this great fallacy about myself in the beginning.
"We are going to the Gulf to support the front line troops," my commander announced to our unit upon first reporting.
"I am strong" I'd tell myself. "I can handle this." I'd deny myself the tears of fear and grief for the sake of strength. If I let myself cry, then I would admit to being weak. Days without sleep, setting up tents in the pounding desert storms, sand assaulting my flesh, hands and knuckles as I grasped the physical strength to pound in one more steel stake out of hundreds.
Weeks without a shower, feeling the caked sand on my skin mixed with the sweat and tears on my cheeks until I could no longer stand to smell myself and was forced to sponge myself off with my rationed drinking water. Falling asleep dripping with sweat from the scorching desert heat and waking to the freezing desert air that chilled my to the bone. Forcing myself to climb out of my warm sleeping bag and exposing my skin to the freezing air. Hot scorching sun beating down upon me only hours later as I forced myself to empty barrels of human waste during latrine duty.
"I am strong." Jolted out of deep sleep to the shrill sound of sirens, blazing gunfire, and screaming voices shouting, "Mask!" Heart pounding violently, with uncontrollable shaking I search frantically for my chemical mask screaming silently, "I am strong!" Running furiously to the safety of a foxhole, tripping over wires, pain spearing through my leg as it smashes against something sharp and made of metal in the darkness. Crawling, creeping, dragging my tremoring body through the sand like a hunted wounded animal searching for safety.
"I am strong!" The words soon became empty as I sought to find the strength in them to survive one more day. Little did I know that I had to experience losing all sense of strength before I could truly gain a sense of attaining this elusive quality.
It happened unexpectedly after spending a night pulling guard duty and my whole body ached with lack of sleep and exhaustion. Every ounce of energy was spent trying to put on my clothes to begin another grueling day of tearing down tents to move yet again to another location. I had just exited my tent like a lifeless zombie when the sensation of wetness on my cheeks startled me. I placed my hand up to my face and realized that the wetness was coming from my eyes. I felt numb inside. My vision grew blurry and my whole body began shaking uncontrollably with convulsions of tears. Yet my heart was cold. I was dumbfounded and a fear came over me as I realized I was no longer in control of my body. For a moment, my mind and body were separate beings. The tears stormed down my face as my heart felt cold and numb.
Frightened, I screamed silently, " I am strong!!" desperately reaching for something to help pull me back. For I felt as if I were going mad, everything seemed so surreal. I felt defeat at the tears streaming down my face, ashamed for lack of control and having to face the weakness that I had so long stifled down into the dark recesses of my mind. I had to hide for I could not face anybody with evidence of weakness written all over my face.
I found my way back into my tent and sank into my cot. A strange whimper escaped my throat as a release of tears gushed down my cheeks and neck uncontrollably, yet I felt as if I were engulfed in a sea of nothingness, feeling numb and empty. My mind waited patiently as my body continued to cry the tears I had stuffed so deeply, that I did not even know had existed. Gradually, the sweet sensation of pain emerged from the dark crevices of my heart. I began to feel once more the fear and pain that I had denied myself so deeply.
I was afraid of dying.
This was the fear that had haunted me so terribly, that I had run away from in my mind for so long, that had come back to face me now. This same fear had finally caught me, and for lack of strength, I could not run away from it any longer. It was engulfing my very soul, choking the life out of me, killing me slowly and I felt too weak to fight it any longer, helpless and vulnerable in the surrender.
My heart filled with intense piercing emotions of grief, loneliness, and desperation. I was going to die...and there was nothing that I could do to prevent it. I must accept it. I must accept that in two days the war was going to begin and my eyes would view unimaginable death and suffering.
My body trembled while convulsions of tears streamed down my face. With each passing minute, I felt the gradual union of body and spirit until a sense of wholeness completed the dark journey within myself. I had finally regained part of myself that I had lost. Through my vulnerability, I had regained my strength. I needed both to survive this war.
"Please fasten your seatbelts, we are about to land," a voice invades my thoughts. My heart pounds violently within my chest as I feel the plane descending. They are waiting for me. My body jerks forward as the planes wheels touch the runaway. I am home and my heart is singing. I look out my window into the spring rain and my soul dances.
The plane stops in front of a crowd of people wearing brilliant colors of red , white , and blue, waving flags of the same colors. A large sign reads, "Welcome Home, We Love you." My heart melts as my throat chokes back the tears. Yet, tears of joy cascade down my cheeks. I am home. My feet feel light, almost as if I were floating as I climb down the steps of the plane onto the red carpet. I feel solid ground underneath my feet for the first time in many months. Cheers of laughter fall upon me from the crowd of many that surrounds me, intoxicating my soul.
A man wearing a Vietnam veterans vest sits in a wheelchair along the side of the carpet with a flag in one hand while his other hand reaches to me. I grasp it, feeling its strength around mine and I look into his eyes full of compassion and understanding, an unspoken sense of fellowship. Soberly he says, "Welcome home, you made it. We all do somehow don't we?" Something stirs deeply within me.
I continue on, looking into the warm and tender faces of the many strangers offering their hand and hugs. Yet, I do not feel heroic, I only feel ecstatic pleasure, for I am home.
I hear my name ringing out from the crowd from a familiar chorus of voices . I turn to find my mom pointing a video camera at me, my dad smiling through tears, and Harry embracing a bouquet of red roses. Harry walks forward, falls to one knee and speaks almost in a whisper, "Will you marry me?"
"Yes!" I find myself replying without letting the words sink in. He seizes me in his strong arms as I feel a shower of many arms enfold themselves around my neck, shoulders, and body as I find myself encircled in my family's embrace. Tears of long held pain and longing release themselves and are replaced with jovial laughter.
I am home!
