As a child, you're often carefree, restless, innocent, and full of life. When I was younger, I had wholeheartedly believed that life was about enjoying everything around you. Now it seems as if I’ve been brutally awoken from a fantasy. Yet, that’s what the innocence of childhood is—a fantasy, a memory, a part of you that you have to lose. I now know that life is actually about enduring everything tossed in your direction, whether you’re ready for it or not. Life doesn’t wait for you to grow up, it forces you to.
Like many people in the military, at the age of two, tragedy struck my family and my mother was lost to me forever. I didn’t take her death too hard, mainly because I hardly remember anything about her other than her gentle voice that often lulled me to sleep. Unfortunately, Dad was the one who felt the full blast of the pain. I remember seeing him sitting in an armchair late at night just staring at her photograph—caressing the frame as if she was really there, as if she was tangible and just out of his reach.
Needless to say, he was a heartbroken soldier, but he pulled half of himself through. Being in the military hardens a man, definitely when you see your friends blown up before your eyes and you’re unsure if you’ll ever see your family again. Definitely when you know that the horrors of war never truly leaves you. He watched enough of his men die, he watched himself lead his troop to safety, but he also witnessed his friends suffer. Seeing so many men and women killed, it was a wonder that my mother’s death even affected him. Yet, the simple fact that he had watched his wife’s life drain from her body while he could do nothing to save her was enough to crush him with guilt.
When my mother became no more than a lost memory, my father clung onto me for support. And I, being only two years old, gave him what he needed—the will to live.
Beep, beep, beep, the sound continues. It’s the only sound I hear now, the sound of his heart. The sound of him choosing to live or die. At times like these, it seems as if the world is black and white, but I remember what Dad told me a long time ago. “Kris, contrary to popular belief, the world isn’t black and white. There are shades of grey.”
Well, Dad, I can’t see the shades of grey. I see only life and death, the yes’s and the no’s, the good and the bad, and the black and the white. I guess a part of me never believed in his words, but another part of me knows that he’s right. I just can’t find that part of myself. Right now I’m just clinging onto some tendrils of hope and wondering if I’ll be enough of a reason for him to live.
My mind fades out of the present as I begin to reminisce about the few days before he left. Dad and I were fairly close. We hardly ever argued, but then again, we only saw each other in the mornings and at night. In addition to all of his missions, I hardly saw him at all. He’d be gone for weeks in mortal combat and then he’d return weary, injured, and fighting for his life.
There wasn’t a time when I didn’t greet him in a hospital bed. The one thing I knew for a fact was that he always pulled out of the mess. He’s gotten shot in the chest, abdomen, and various other spots countless of times. The best part was that he always made it back and pulled through. He would greet me with a warm smile that would make me feel as if I shouldn’t have been worrying in the first place. The first thing he’d say to me would be, “Why the long face, Cadet?”
I long for his smile, his voice, and his hug. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I yearn for someone to comfort me, to tell me that everything is going to be all right. Unfortunately, most of my wishes don’t come true. I’ve taken to trying not to make anymore wishes, but when you have nothing to turn to; you don’t have any other choices other than wishing upon a shining star.
Sighing, I stare at his pale form. He almost looks dead; perhaps it’s from the lack of color in his usually merry face or maybe the hollowness in his cheeks that gave him skeletal features. My hand reaches forward to grasp his limp one. “C’mon Dad, please pull through, you’re a fighter…you can make it…please…” I whisper so softly that I can hardly hear myself.
I close my eyes for a moment, knowing that as long as I don’t lose hope and faith; Dad will make it through. He always does.
I remember the night before he left for his mission all too clearly. It was the last night I saw him before this day and I had wanted him to stay home. To my distaste, he was in a bitter mood and refused to listen to whatever I had to say, “Kris! Why are you acting like this!? I have men that are counting on me for this mission and men that are counting on me to save them. As much as I want to stay home, I have a duty to this country.” Dad growled.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough!? Don’t you think it’s about time for your country to give back to you!?”
“Remember what JFK said, ‘ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country’.”
“Yah, he was a genius, that’s why he was shot and killed.” I rolled my eyes while bitterness and sarcasm dripped from every word.
“Young lady, how dare you show disrespect to our former president!?” Dad thundered.
“He’s dead, Dad! And if you keep this up, you’ll join him!” I screamed, I hadn’t meant to be so bitter.
I just wanted to ask him if he ever thought about me. I wanted to ask him if I was enough to keep him at home, after all, I was and am his only child. I am a ‘Daddy’s little girl’, so why couldn’t that be enough? Why couldn’t he just let go and stay with me? There were so many questions when I had no time to ask them.
“Enough! This conversation is over, I’m leaving tomorrow, whether you like it or not!”
“Well then, you don’t have my support on this one, Dad. You can go off by yourself tomorrow, because I can’t watch you get yourself killed.” I paused fumingly. “Don’t you understand that your missions are slowly tearing you apart, Dad? Don’t you see that you’re just torturing yourself by watching so many people die in front of your eyes, by reliving your unwanted memories? I’m not going to watch you slowly fall apart, I’m not going to stay and watch you make yourself suffer.”
“Kris, don’t you dare leave.” He threatened.
“Well, Dad, you’re leaving, why can’t I?” I asked while on the verge of tears. “You’ve given up…” I whispered as my heart dropped into the deepest pit of my stomach.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Not with a boy, I hope.”
“Why should you care? Does it matter if it’s my boyfriend? You obviously don’t care about what I think about you going out there getting yourself killed!”
“Kris…that’s not true.”
I ignored the helpless look in his eyes. I ignored the fact that I was hurting him, I was too angry to care. For once in my life I was telling him the truth about how I felt. “You don’t understand, Dad!”
“I do understand and I do care, Sweetheart, I do.”
“Then why don’t you listen to me!? Why won’t you just…stop hurting yourself? Do you know what it’s like—” I broke off angrily.
I couldn’t tell him that every time I saw him lying in that hospital bed a part of me broke off. I couldn’t tell him that watching him weak and recuperating from the pain was like having a hot rod searing into my chest while a noose tightened around my neck. I couldn’t tell him that it hurt to watch him suffer because he was my father, the man who was supposed to be invincible.
“Kris, what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to stop.”
“That’s pretty darn selfish of you, don’t you think?”
“How is it selfish to just want your father to not die?” I demanded.
“Because I’m a general, Kiddo, and I can’t just…shirk my responsibilities, lives depend on me. If I don’t do this, a lot of men will die. Young men and children will lose their fathers.”
I wanted to shout, ‘what about me? What happens to me when you die!?’ I knew the answer to that one though; I’d eventually move on. That’s the way life is, people die and you move on because time forces you to. Besides, if he died, there’d only be one father lost instead of ten. I hated to admit it, but Dad had a point.
“Listen, Hon’, I always make it back.”
“Yah, Dad, I know, but you’re always trying to save people. You’re always there for people and maybe that’s why I love you so much. But that’s not the point…when will you let people save you, Dad? When will you find that saving grace? When will you forgive yourself?” I asked.
“This isn’t about that, Kris, this is about serving our country. This is about saving lives!”
“You say that, but it-it’s your getaway from pain. I know you feel guilty about her death, that’s why you’re trying so hard to prevent others. You’re seeking forgiveness because you couldn’t save Mom, but there’s nothing to forgive, Dad.”
“Kris…”
I could hear the warning note in his tone, but I ignored it. I had to get my feelings off of my chest. I had to tell him the truth. “Dad…it’s ridiculous, no one blames you for her death. But you still seek to redeem yourself, but from what?”
“It’s not about that!” Dad thundered. “I told you this is about keeping our country safe.”
“And I think you’ve done all you can…”
“It’s never enough.”
“When will it ever be enough, Dad? When you’re dead? I don’t want to see that. I know you always make it back, but never in one damn piece!” I shouted, earning myself a glare that warned me to watch my language. “What if you don’t get out of the mess you fall in? Call me selfish, I don’t care! You’re always taking in more than you can chew. I don’t want to lose my father! Don’t you ever think of that!?
“Kris, enough, I’m going no matter what.”
I glared at him and he met my unwavering glare with equal stubbornness. I was furious with the fact that he wasn’t listening to me. I was infuriated by the fact that he didn’t seem to care, which was absurd because I knew he cared. I knew that he wanted me to be happy, but he didn’t understand that every time he went away it was like me living a nightmare. He didn’t understand that it wasn’t only those who went to war that suffered. The ones left behind suffered too. They fretted and they were terrified that their loved ones would never return home. I’ve seen enough friends lose their parents and parents lose their children. When would the fighting stop? When would the hating end?
“I’m out of here, you get yourself out on that field, whatever; I don’t care anymore.” I spat and shot out of the house.
“KRIS!” He shouted.
I ignored his calls and the desperation in his voice. I sprinted past the trees, ignoring the leafless branches that protruded from the darkness, snatching at my clothes like skeletal hands rising from the dead. When I could no longer breathe, I threw myself at the trunk of a tree and wept like a young child. I was no longer angry; however, I was terrified that my greatest fear was going to come true—the fear of losing all of the people I love.
With my arms wrapped around my body, I tried to hold myself together as sobs thrashed from my chest. I tried to pull the broken pieces of my soul together, but instead, they were slowly shattering. I sat at the stump of the tree feeling the droplets of rain pelt my skin. Lifting my face, I gazed at the sky and the beads of rain that fell upon me. They were freefalling and I wish I could be like them, free of everything. They had no past, no present, no future, nor’ did they have any worries or responsibilities. They were absolutely free.
As I sit in this chair by his side, I think that I knew what was going to happen. I think that when I allowed myself to break down; I became renewed. I was able to see the world through a different light. I was able to understand him and his need to go off into battle and save lives. Unfortunately, the night I had returned home, Dad had already departed for his mission and I was unable to say what I had wanted to. “Dad…” I swallow, knowing that if I said this, he would let go of everything. “It’s OK, I forgive you.” I whisper, knowing that those were the words he had been seeking to hear since my mom died, knowing that those words were his saving grace.
Slowly, I see a small smile forming at the corner of his lips as the monitor begins to beep erratically. I cling onto his hand as I whisper in a broken voice, “Good bye, Dad…I love you.”
Not a moment later, the monitor indicates a flat line as doctors rush in and shove me out of the way to try to restart his heart. Some part of me knows that he isn’t going to wake up; I had freed him from the shell that had trapped his soul. Tears threaten to fall as a lump rises in my throat, but I’m not going to cry. He’s going to be in a better place. I haven’t given up hope or faith; I’ve just chosen to make a selfless choice—letting him go.
My father had died a long time ago; he had died alongside his wife. The only thing that had remained was his will to raise me. Now that I have relinquished him of his pain, perhaps he’ll be able to forgive himself. Perhaps that burden that he felt he had to carry will be lessened and he’ll be able to piece back his broken heart and look down at me with pride. Wherever he is, I know that he’s in a better place and that I let him go there; besides, a piece of his heart will always be with me. There is no need for tears.
I sigh…maybe it’s the opposite. As long as humans exist, there will be love, hope, faith, and forgiveness. Even if there is so much darkness lingering over humanity, the morning light is on its way. Just look for that silver lining. Now I know that I was wrong, life is about enduring what’s thrown at you, but it’s also about enjoying what you have and appreciating it. It’s about finding the good and overlooking the bad in things. Sure, sometimes you’re forced to grow up before you’re ready, but you’re also allowed to understand what you never did before. You’re allowed to see the world with eyes you never knew you had.
Now I understand, Dad, I understand why you had to do the things you did and I forgive you for leaving me home on all those nights. I forgive you for not always being there when I had a nightmare. I forgive you for…everything. You had a duty to the country and to me. It was a hard decision for you, but I think you made the right one. Either way, you were an amazing soldier and an even better father.
I see it now…I see that, Dad, you were right, the world isn’t only black and white. I’ve found that other part of myself where I can see the shades of grey. For that, I thank you.
Like many people in the military, at the age of two, tragedy struck my family and my mother was lost to me forever. I didn’t take her death too hard, mainly because I hardly remember anything about her other than her gentle voice that often lulled me to sleep. Unfortunately, Dad was the one who felt the full blast of the pain. I remember seeing him sitting in an armchair late at night just staring at her photograph—caressing the frame as if she was really there, as if she was tangible and just out of his reach.
Needless to say, he was a heartbroken soldier, but he pulled half of himself through. Being in the military hardens a man, definitely when you see your friends blown up before your eyes and you’re unsure if you’ll ever see your family again. Definitely when you know that the horrors of war never truly leaves you. He watched enough of his men die, he watched himself lead his troop to safety, but he also witnessed his friends suffer. Seeing so many men and women killed, it was a wonder that my mother’s death even affected him. Yet, the simple fact that he had watched his wife’s life drain from her body while he could do nothing to save her was enough to crush him with guilt.
When my mother became no more than a lost memory, my father clung onto me for support. And I, being only two years old, gave him what he needed—the will to live.
Beep, beep, beep, the sound continues. It’s the only sound I hear now, the sound of his heart. The sound of him choosing to live or die. At times like these, it seems as if the world is black and white, but I remember what Dad told me a long time ago. “Kris, contrary to popular belief, the world isn’t black and white. There are shades of grey.”
Well, Dad, I can’t see the shades of grey. I see only life and death, the yes’s and the no’s, the good and the bad, and the black and the white. I guess a part of me never believed in his words, but another part of me knows that he’s right. I just can’t find that part of myself. Right now I’m just clinging onto some tendrils of hope and wondering if I’ll be enough of a reason for him to live.
My mind fades out of the present as I begin to reminisce about the few days before he left. Dad and I were fairly close. We hardly ever argued, but then again, we only saw each other in the mornings and at night. In addition to all of his missions, I hardly saw him at all. He’d be gone for weeks in mortal combat and then he’d return weary, injured, and fighting for his life.
There wasn’t a time when I didn’t greet him in a hospital bed. The one thing I knew for a fact was that he always pulled out of the mess. He’s gotten shot in the chest, abdomen, and various other spots countless of times. The best part was that he always made it back and pulled through. He would greet me with a warm smile that would make me feel as if I shouldn’t have been worrying in the first place. The first thing he’d say to me would be, “Why the long face, Cadet?”
I long for his smile, his voice, and his hug. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I yearn for someone to comfort me, to tell me that everything is going to be all right. Unfortunately, most of my wishes don’t come true. I’ve taken to trying not to make anymore wishes, but when you have nothing to turn to; you don’t have any other choices other than wishing upon a shining star.
Sighing, I stare at his pale form. He almost looks dead; perhaps it’s from the lack of color in his usually merry face or maybe the hollowness in his cheeks that gave him skeletal features. My hand reaches forward to grasp his limp one. “C’mon Dad, please pull through, you’re a fighter…you can make it…please…” I whisper so softly that I can hardly hear myself.
I close my eyes for a moment, knowing that as long as I don’t lose hope and faith; Dad will make it through. He always does.
I remember the night before he left for his mission all too clearly. It was the last night I saw him before this day and I had wanted him to stay home. To my distaste, he was in a bitter mood and refused to listen to whatever I had to say, “Kris! Why are you acting like this!? I have men that are counting on me for this mission and men that are counting on me to save them. As much as I want to stay home, I have a duty to this country.” Dad growled.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough!? Don’t you think it’s about time for your country to give back to you!?”
“Remember what JFK said, ‘ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country’.”
“Yah, he was a genius, that’s why he was shot and killed.” I rolled my eyes while bitterness and sarcasm dripped from every word.
“Young lady, how dare you show disrespect to our former president!?” Dad thundered.
“He’s dead, Dad! And if you keep this up, you’ll join him!” I screamed, I hadn’t meant to be so bitter.
I just wanted to ask him if he ever thought about me. I wanted to ask him if I was enough to keep him at home, after all, I was and am his only child. I am a ‘Daddy’s little girl’, so why couldn’t that be enough? Why couldn’t he just let go and stay with me? There were so many questions when I had no time to ask them.
“Enough! This conversation is over, I’m leaving tomorrow, whether you like it or not!”
“Well then, you don’t have my support on this one, Dad. You can go off by yourself tomorrow, because I can’t watch you get yourself killed.” I paused fumingly. “Don’t you understand that your missions are slowly tearing you apart, Dad? Don’t you see that you’re just torturing yourself by watching so many people die in front of your eyes, by reliving your unwanted memories? I’m not going to watch you slowly fall apart, I’m not going to stay and watch you make yourself suffer.”
“Kris, don’t you dare leave.” He threatened.
“Well, Dad, you’re leaving, why can’t I?” I asked while on the verge of tears. “You’ve given up…” I whispered as my heart dropped into the deepest pit of my stomach.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Not with a boy, I hope.”
“Why should you care? Does it matter if it’s my boyfriend? You obviously don’t care about what I think about you going out there getting yourself killed!”
“Kris…that’s not true.”
I ignored the helpless look in his eyes. I ignored the fact that I was hurting him, I was too angry to care. For once in my life I was telling him the truth about how I felt. “You don’t understand, Dad!”
“I do understand and I do care, Sweetheart, I do.”
“Then why don’t you listen to me!? Why won’t you just…stop hurting yourself? Do you know what it’s like—” I broke off angrily.
I couldn’t tell him that every time I saw him lying in that hospital bed a part of me broke off. I couldn’t tell him that watching him weak and recuperating from the pain was like having a hot rod searing into my chest while a noose tightened around my neck. I couldn’t tell him that it hurt to watch him suffer because he was my father, the man who was supposed to be invincible.
“Kris, what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to stop.”
“That’s pretty darn selfish of you, don’t you think?”
“How is it selfish to just want your father to not die?” I demanded.
“Because I’m a general, Kiddo, and I can’t just…shirk my responsibilities, lives depend on me. If I don’t do this, a lot of men will die. Young men and children will lose their fathers.”
I wanted to shout, ‘what about me? What happens to me when you die!?’ I knew the answer to that one though; I’d eventually move on. That’s the way life is, people die and you move on because time forces you to. Besides, if he died, there’d only be one father lost instead of ten. I hated to admit it, but Dad had a point.
“Listen, Hon’, I always make it back.”
“Yah, Dad, I know, but you’re always trying to save people. You’re always there for people and maybe that’s why I love you so much. But that’s not the point…when will you let people save you, Dad? When will you find that saving grace? When will you forgive yourself?” I asked.
“This isn’t about that, Kris, this is about serving our country. This is about saving lives!”
“You say that, but it-it’s your getaway from pain. I know you feel guilty about her death, that’s why you’re trying so hard to prevent others. You’re seeking forgiveness because you couldn’t save Mom, but there’s nothing to forgive, Dad.”
“Kris…”
I could hear the warning note in his tone, but I ignored it. I had to get my feelings off of my chest. I had to tell him the truth. “Dad…it’s ridiculous, no one blames you for her death. But you still seek to redeem yourself, but from what?”
“It’s not about that!” Dad thundered. “I told you this is about keeping our country safe.”
“And I think you’ve done all you can…”
“It’s never enough.”
“When will it ever be enough, Dad? When you’re dead? I don’t want to see that. I know you always make it back, but never in one damn piece!” I shouted, earning myself a glare that warned me to watch my language. “What if you don’t get out of the mess you fall in? Call me selfish, I don’t care! You’re always taking in more than you can chew. I don’t want to lose my father! Don’t you ever think of that!?
“Kris, enough, I’m going no matter what.”
I glared at him and he met my unwavering glare with equal stubbornness. I was furious with the fact that he wasn’t listening to me. I was infuriated by the fact that he didn’t seem to care, which was absurd because I knew he cared. I knew that he wanted me to be happy, but he didn’t understand that every time he went away it was like me living a nightmare. He didn’t understand that it wasn’t only those who went to war that suffered. The ones left behind suffered too. They fretted and they were terrified that their loved ones would never return home. I’ve seen enough friends lose their parents and parents lose their children. When would the fighting stop? When would the hating end?
“I’m out of here, you get yourself out on that field, whatever; I don’t care anymore.” I spat and shot out of the house.
“KRIS!” He shouted.
I ignored his calls and the desperation in his voice. I sprinted past the trees, ignoring the leafless branches that protruded from the darkness, snatching at my clothes like skeletal hands rising from the dead. When I could no longer breathe, I threw myself at the trunk of a tree and wept like a young child. I was no longer angry; however, I was terrified that my greatest fear was going to come true—the fear of losing all of the people I love.
With my arms wrapped around my body, I tried to hold myself together as sobs thrashed from my chest. I tried to pull the broken pieces of my soul together, but instead, they were slowly shattering. I sat at the stump of the tree feeling the droplets of rain pelt my skin. Lifting my face, I gazed at the sky and the beads of rain that fell upon me. They were freefalling and I wish I could be like them, free of everything. They had no past, no present, no future, nor’ did they have any worries or responsibilities. They were absolutely free.
As I sit in this chair by his side, I think that I knew what was going to happen. I think that when I allowed myself to break down; I became renewed. I was able to see the world through a different light. I was able to understand him and his need to go off into battle and save lives. Unfortunately, the night I had returned home, Dad had already departed for his mission and I was unable to say what I had wanted to. “Dad…” I swallow, knowing that if I said this, he would let go of everything. “It’s OK, I forgive you.” I whisper, knowing that those were the words he had been seeking to hear since my mom died, knowing that those words were his saving grace.
Slowly, I see a small smile forming at the corner of his lips as the monitor begins to beep erratically. I cling onto his hand as I whisper in a broken voice, “Good bye, Dad…I love you.”
Not a moment later, the monitor indicates a flat line as doctors rush in and shove me out of the way to try to restart his heart. Some part of me knows that he isn’t going to wake up; I had freed him from the shell that had trapped his soul. Tears threaten to fall as a lump rises in my throat, but I’m not going to cry. He’s going to be in a better place. I haven’t given up hope or faith; I’ve just chosen to make a selfless choice—letting him go.
My father had died a long time ago; he had died alongside his wife. The only thing that had remained was his will to raise me. Now that I have relinquished him of his pain, perhaps he’ll be able to forgive himself. Perhaps that burden that he felt he had to carry will be lessened and he’ll be able to piece back his broken heart and look down at me with pride. Wherever he is, I know that he’s in a better place and that I let him go there; besides, a piece of his heart will always be with me. There is no need for tears.
I sigh…maybe it’s the opposite. As long as humans exist, there will be love, hope, faith, and forgiveness. Even if there is so much darkness lingering over humanity, the morning light is on its way. Just look for that silver lining. Now I know that I was wrong, life is about enduring what’s thrown at you, but it’s also about enjoying what you have and appreciating it. It’s about finding the good and overlooking the bad in things. Sure, sometimes you’re forced to grow up before you’re ready, but you’re also allowed to understand what you never did before. You’re allowed to see the world with eyes you never knew you had.
Now I understand, Dad, I understand why you had to do the things you did and I forgive you for leaving me home on all those nights. I forgive you for not always being there when I had a nightmare. I forgive you for…everything. You had a duty to the country and to me. It was a hard decision for you, but I think you made the right one. Either way, you were an amazing soldier and an even better father.
I see it now…I see that, Dad, you were right, the world isn’t only black and white. I’ve found that other part of myself where I can see the shades of grey. For that, I thank you.
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