As always he was a figure that exuded inspiration . While watching the video play, I couldn't help but admire his stature as he stood on the podium to address the assembly of young cadets.
It was his job as the newly appointed training marshal to oversee them and lead them onto the battlefield.
The Grishna war is one which has been going on for over 12 years now, claiming more than 12,000 lives and destroying over double the lives of that.
I smiled as I watched him fidgeting, his hands behind his back, probably tapping on his backside nervously.
He looked at the camera again, swallowed some saliva and began talking.
Despite being nervous, he spoke clearly and audibly, each sentence booming with power that seemed to power up the cadets in turn.
Each word brimming with confidence so infectious that the once nerve wracked, clearly timid young soldiers, seemed ready to run towards doom or glory on the battlefield.
As his speech came to an end, the audience applauded him and the videos fizzed to a stop.
Not only till I saw myself on the reflection of the blank TV screen did I notice the stream of tears flowing from my cheeks.
I turned towards the lady who had brought the news and the video to me, embarrassed at my waterworks
She seemed understanding and paid no mind to the tears and runny nose, probably not the first time she had to break the status of widowhood.
She hugged me and spoke softly to my ear.
"He was a great soldier, Mrs Green, and an even better person."
Just then the flood gates opened and I wailed. Crying and running tears and snot all over this stranger's shoulder. She didn't mind though, or if she did, she didn't show it. She just stood there, a shoulder for me in my moment of grief.
3 weeks later, and I had managed to put my emotions in check, never letting out more than a few sniffles during those random moments when I think about him or a situation that brings a memory of him was always noted as a small victory.
'I am not meant to cry this much.' I chide myself after having a messy crying session while clearing out his wardrobe.
Marrying a soldier when the country was in a war, I always knew that he might not live through it. The idea of him dying on some foreign land was one of the driving factors for us to get married right away.
"Considering all that I should have prepared my heart for this already." I said out loud, weeping into his jacket.
During the funeral everything still took on that shade of grey.
The skies, seas, and animals all looked dull and uninteresting.
I ran into the lady who had brought the news of his death to me.
She seemed to be crying way more than I was, which in turn made me a bit jealous.
It turned out that she was his Assistant in the army. He taught her everything she knows, stood up for her during days of untasteful bullying by the boys and always helped her when she needed one.
Her speech was cut short as she just couldn't do it, breaking down and leaving the scene in tears.
Some other men stood and talked. Some old time Captain's, newly recruited soldiers, even the normal staff in the barracks.
Speaking of times he helped that many overlooked, the way he seemed to care, the way he acted with care, despite being in a position of power. Many cried and all were somber. One thing was clear, he was loved by all.
Then they called on me to speak.
Climbing the stage to get to where the microphone is. I stumbled on the steps then quickly righted myself.
Finally getting to the stage, I saw him again. Dressed smartly in a navy blue suit.
It reminded me of our wedding, when he had to choose between Navy Blue and Royal blue.
I didn't see the difference though which dismayed him.
Instead of choosing his suit color, he spent the 3 days leading up to our wedding weekend to explain to me the differences between them, even going as far as giving me a test.
He later donned Night Black to the wedding which prompted a giggle from me under the veil.
I noticed a touch of black on his pale skin and realized it was my Mascara dripping, the tears had started again.
I tried controlling it but my heart and my eyes weren't listening, so when it rained, it poured.
I left the funeral running through the field to the privacy of my car and crying it all out.
Tears of longing, sadness, grief, love and happiness. I cried and screamed till my throat was raw, totally unaware of the time past nor the change in the weather.
When I was finally done, 3 hours had passed and he was already in the ground. The rain started pouring, leaving me with nothing to do but to go home.
5 years later, I came up to clean his grave but already met someone there. The same lady who was meant to be my husband's assistant when he was alive in service, the one who broke the news to me. I still hadn't gotten her name. She didn't notice me due to her headphones being on.
"How many times has it been now?" I heard her saying softly, sitting next to his grave.
I stay replaying that stupid moment over and over in my mind..
Having this horrible feeling…
I said a lot of things I shouldn't have because you saved both me and you…
I loved you Erwin.. I loved you dearly…
Loved you so much that I tried kissing you before you left for your mission. You avoided it though, that's so like you."
I stayed quiet, listening to her ranting to the dead, my blood boiling over the fact that she had tried kissing my husband.
"It pained me, wounded me so bad, yet you acted like nothing happened. Acted as though it was a mistake as simple as both of us falling and your hands mistakenly brushing my bosom!!" She shouted, crying vividly now.
"Ohhh, I'm crying again." She continued
"How many times does this make it now?
Having this horrible feeling…
Even though you hurt me so much…
So why... Why do I still love you so much…
I'm such an idiot…
I don't care…
I don't care if you actually love me or not…
I do know I want you, I need you…
Please Lord, if you're watching, please..
Bring him back…
Please... I miss him.."
She laid there crying for quite some time while I stood, befuddled by her confession and plea.
I knelt at my hiding spot behind the tree and prayed too for Erwin to come back, for she wasn't the only one who missed him.
- Gif created by me using Canva
My Instagram page.
