Those thoughts make my belly do flips, but I have to accept this is the life we are choosing. Even if he does have to serve time abroad and away from me, we have this commitment. He will always come home to me.
Jonah again nods before confirming his commitment.
Brian turns his attention to me.
"Wilt thou Josie, take this soldier as thy wedded husband, knowing that he is depending upon you to be the perfect (well almost) Army wife, running the household as you see fit, and being nice to the commander's wife?"
I bite back my own laugh. I’m not sure that I’m going to be besties with his commander’s wife, but I can get along with just about anyone.
“Furthermore, you understand that your life with your husband (little that you may have together) will not be normal. That you may have to explain to your children, not once, but twice, and more often in the same day, that mother’s do have husband’s, and that children do have daddy's, and that the picture of the man on the refrigerator is not the milkman, but the same individual who tucks them in at 2200 hours, long after they are asleep. This soldier is their daddy, who loves them very, very much.”
Whew, the thought of having kids terrifies me, but I also know without a doubt Jonah will be an incredible dad.
"Wilt thou love, respect and wait for him, preparing his favorite cookies and pictures of yourself and the kids, so he can remember what you look like? And last but not least, put on the outside of your door his ‘Welcome home’ sign when he's due to arrive back?”
I meet Jonah’s eyes and smile proudly, “I do. And I’ll add a yellow ribbon too!”
Everyone lets out a laugh or sigh in our unique vows as we continue.
Brian turns to Jonah, “I believe you have a statement of commitment to share, Jonah."
Giving my hand a squeeze, he begins, “I, Jonah, take thee Josie, as my wife, from 1900 to 2200 hours or as long as allowed by my Commanding Officer (subject to change without notice), for better or worse, earlier or later, near or far, and I promise to look at the pictures you send me, maybe not when they get to me in the field, but before I turn the lights out. I will also send a letter, if time permits, and if not readily given a window of time, to somehow, some way, make the time to get word home to you of my love and commitment to you."
Brian gives a nod of approval, “Now, Josie, knowing that this man is a soldier first and commitment to God and country are going to be prevalent for the next twenty years, and God for a lifetime, it’s your time to put up or shut up, darlin’.”
I can’t stop the laugh. Even knowing we planned these words with Brian, it’s still funny to me. "I, Josie, take thee Jonah as my live-in/live-out husband, realizing that your comings and goings and 0330 staff meetings are normal (although absurd to me) and part of your life as a soldier. I promise not to be shocked or taken by surprise when you inform me that, although we've just arrived at our new duty station, you will be leaving for a training within the month. Yes, I'll have you as my husband as long as while you are away, my allotment comes through regularly, and that you leave me a current power of attorney and the checkbook at all times.”
To this everyone laughs, Jonah and I included.
I continue, “I am your dependent, and proud of it. Although I will miss you when you are away, I know I can handle whatever comes across my path. And the love we share will carry me through.”
We exchange rings and Brian rolls his shoulder back like a proud papa bear.
"Now then, let no man or woman put asunder what God and the Department of the Army have brought together. The Army hereby issues you this lovely, dedicated, independent woman, knowing that she'll be an asset not only to your marriage, but also to the mission of the United States Army, which is, as you all know, to remain in a state of ‘Readiness’. By the authority vested in the Bible, elaborated in the regulation and subject to current directives concerning the aspects of marriage in the Army, you are now a Soldier with a Family Member. Best Wishes and good Luck."
Jonah tips his head, leaning down to me, his lips press to mine, and just like that we are sealed with a kiss.
He is forever mine, and I forever his.
Seven Years Later
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, ya know,” I talk to the fancy box in front of me. “Jonah, you’re supposed to be here, every step of the way, not a bag of ashes placed neatly in a box I carry from house to house. You’re supposed to wrap your arms around me tight, each and every night unless you are doing your duty for the Army.”
I let the tear fall down my face. Lifting my glass of wine up, my hand trembles before I allow the cold liquid to hit my lips. Two years since I’ve been in his arms. Two years, I’ve had to navigate things without him. I’m halfway through our marriage. We had five years of being husband and wife before he was taken from me, taken from our son. Nine years together, and now two years apart. It feels crippling to think of life continuing to go on as it does.
“Forever you will be my solider on deployment. Never to come home,” I whisper to the night air. “The eternity we now have is one where you are forever apart from me.”
How did my life end up like this? “Forever you are twenty-four while I continue to wrinkle and age. Your time stopped and mine keeps going when I crave nothing more than one simple moment with you once again.”
Another sip of wine and I look at the urn containing my husband’s remains. I long for him to hold me once again. How did our dreams shatter? This isn’t how I ever imagined our life to be.
What happened to happily ever after?
What happened to all those plans for raising kids while seeing the world? What happened to the future in a rocking chair on a wraparound porch reminiscing on all we have seen and done together?
What is to be said when together is no longer ever an option? Death is as final as it gets.
I’ll never have love like he gave me again. I’ll never have a companion, a partner, a father for my son, a protector, a lover, best friend, or person to love and accept me the way I had with Jonah.
