He's gone.

“You need to be a very proud mother”, Ms Pam told me.
She was my son’s teacher.
I smiled. “I really am. But what makes you say that?”
“In class today, I asked every one what they want to be in the future. While all the kids wanted to be a business man, entrepreneur, soccer player and stuff, your son said he wanted to be a soldier”.
I simply nodded and smiled.
“I thought you would be more surprised”, she told me.
“I am not.”
I shared a pleasant hug with her and my son waved her good bye for the day.
It has been a really long day.
I went to take a quick nap, while I found my diary beside me. I scrambled the pages to find if there is anything interesting. Then my conversation with Ms Pam reminded me. My son wants to be a soldier. I wasn’t surprised because his dad was a soldier.
And for some reason, I really wanted to re-live my last conversation with his father, my husband. My diary was the only living memory I had of him.
I kept turning the pages until I found the right date.

DEC 31,1947.
“Do you really have to go?”.
“I do. My country needs me. I don’t have a choice.”, he replied.
I was sitting in my garden with my husband. He is a soldier. And now, our country needs him. But I need him too. I don’t want him to go anywhere away from me. I want him to be here to see the birth of his unborn baby. Yes, I’m pregnant.
“You have no idea how much this breaks me, that I am not going to be here when our precious child is Born”, he continued talking in a feeble and breaking voice.
I could feel his frustration, anger, resentment, but at the same time, also his dedication to his country.
“I’m proud of you”, I replied.
“What?”
“Yes, I‘m proud of you. You know, while all the other wives out there mention the job of their husband, I stand proud and tall. You know why? Because my husband doesn’t work for himself, nor for his family. He works for his nation. He works for the country that gave him his everything. He sacrifices his happiness to make sure his country’s people are safe and secure. There’s nothing in the world that could make me more prouder than you do.”
He didn’t talk for a while. We just sat there holding hands. I could see his eyes watering. I felt like it was my fault.
“I’m sorry”, I said.
“Don’t be. You know, every time before I go on to the field, I think that I have not yet completely lived my life with you. I haven’t spent a lot of time with you ever since our marriage. But you never complained about it. I may have been a wonderful soldier for our country, but as a husband, I failed. Hence, I always pray God to give me a second chance. Please keep me alive today. So I can go home, and make up for the lost days with my wife. And guess what? He just didn’t give me a second chance. He gave me 100’s of chances. He kept me alive for the past 10 years since our marriage. But I never did what I promised him. I never made it up for those lost days with you. I’m sorry”.
With that note, he broke down. I did too. It was an emotional moment. Even though I’m proud of him, it’s still one life and the fact that I can’t spend it with my husband like the rest of other ladies, hurts me.

I controlled my tears and started to talk. I can always cry alone, but I can only talk as long as he is here.
“We may have not had the chance to spend a lot of time together like other couples, but, every time we meet after months, or even years, that moment is beautiful, priceless. It seems like the wait is all worth it for that single moment. I just wish I could re-live every one of them with you. But now, you have another responsibility. You have a child who is waiting for you. So you need to come back.”
His phone buzzed and it was his General. He needs to go back. Now.
“I need to go, honey.”. He pressed my hands into his and we got up. He planted a affectionate kiss on my forehead.
“And promise me, you will be back”.
He smiled and went. He never promises me that. I guess that’s because, he knows anything can happen on the field. I wave good bye to him with a smile on my face and tears in my heart. As always, I was praying to God that this won’t be the last Good Bye.

“Mom?”, my son called me.
I closed the diary and quickly wiped away the tears from my cheeks.
I smiled at my son.
“What are you doing mom?”.
“Nothing. Come here”.

I cuddled my son on my lap for a while and eventually he laid his head on my shoulders.
“So you really want to be a soldier, uh”. I asked him
“Yes mom”.
I slowly turned the Diary to a couple of pages away.
JAN 2, 1948.
He’s gone. He is not coming back.
That’s the day I lost my husband. That’s the day my country lost a dedicated Soldier. And that’s the day, another Solider was born. My son.