I take a deep breath. “Sometimes things don’t work out. We didn’t work out,” I fight back the emotions building.
The fear.
The anger.
The frustration.
The hurt.
The damage is done and there is no way to repair anything between us.
“Things can work out, but you choose not to. Give me another chance, give us another chance.”
“Brett, we have gone over this. We have tried it, and we don’t work. It’s not healthy. I need to be on my own. I am not good for you.” Yes, I feel ridiculous taking the blame, but I know better than even attempt to tell him this falls on him. Giving him the reality that he is one hundred percent a problem for me takes him to a level of violence that I can’t be sure I’ll live through again.
He laughs, “This isn’t about you, Puppet. You took my son. You took our family, and you shattered it, Puppet. You aren’t what I want alone. I want my family back, my son, my wife, and not this woman you’ve become. Why won’t you talk to me? Let me explain. I know why you left. I understand but hear me out. Really listen and give us a chance.”
Ha, I want to laugh out loud. If he really understood this conversation wouldn’t be happening. I don’t want to give another second to this man.
“Brett, I’m at work,” I counter. “I can’t do this with you.”
“Then come home so we can talk.”
Home. A single word that guts me.
In the first months of my grief of losing Jonah, that four letter word gutted me. Bringing Justice home from the hospital alone sparked a level of depression I never could have prepared for. Everywhere I turned in my home there were reminders of the plans I had with Jonah. The milestones he was missing with our son.
It prompted a change in me, becoming a mother. Not only did the need to nurture and comfort come on full force as instincts I couldn’t deny, but the power of my love for Justice conquered the loss I felt for his dad. Not that my grief lessoned, nor did the love I had for Jonah. But having Justice, I had a reason to get up and keep going. Everything I do is for my son, including getting us a new house back then.
Brett lives in the very home I bought for my son to grow up in. Another dream shattered for me. When do the losses end? I lost my husband, I lost my home, and for the life of me, I can’t seem to get a grip on the here and now much less the future.
The money from the life insurance policy and the military gratuity lump sum went towards a college fund for Justice and the house. I knew I wouldn’t have a two income home anymore, not in the way I was used to. I knew I wouldn’t have the retirement and benefits that Jonah, and I planned for. I had to be smart after losing him.
After Jonah died, I did receive a monthly check, still do even. It is less than his usual paychecks, but at least it is something. I could possibly make that check pay for my living expenses, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. I’m able-bodied and I love my job, therefore working isn’t a bad thing to me. I like having a savings. Well, when I had one. This whole situation with Brett has pretty much taken everything from me. Especially in the financial department. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks if my accounts get low enough, I’ll come home simply to save money. He is wrong, if that is his headspace.
Leaving, it came down to my life or the house. I chose to live, which meant leaving my home. Four bedrooms, five bathrooms, one acre lot, with a completely fenced in back yard, and Justice’s most recent favorite is the in-ground trampoline. Christmas last year, I had it installed. This is the “safer way to jump” so they say. Without the fall from above, the chances of breaking bones are less. I don’t necessarily think any trampoline is safe, but he loves to jump. As a mom, I struggle watching him do wild things because I don’t want him to get hurt, but he’s a boy who loves to be outdoors. He loves climbing, jumping, running, swinging, and anything that means being outside. Often, I find myself wondering how much fun Jonah would be having with him. I have to stop myself because it continues to churn up the sadness inside me. As much as I can daydream of what might have been, it will never be reality. For my son, I need to be present and not lost in some place in my mind that never can be.
Brett wasn’t this staple in our lives when I purchased the home. Not, initially as in a partner. In fact, when I bought the house if anyone would have asked me about my future … well, the only man it would have featured is Justice.
Brett, though, he played the slow game. He can be quite persuasive or maybe I’m just that stupid. I’d like to think it was the first and not the last, but I need to be accountable for the hand I played in my own downfall.
The man is smart. His connection to Jonah always felt like another piece of my husband to hold onto. He was there, deployed with Jonah. He watched those last moments of his life. In fact, he was so close to the blast zone, his vehicle was shaken and rolled causing him to end up with a traumatic brain injury. Brett is quick to explain his marbles are loose upstairs and remind anyone that anything he possibly does out of line is from this injury.
At first, I felt this connection because he was there for Jonah’s last moments. Then I got to know him. The part of me that loves to nurture wanted to take away the headaches and nightmares he endured. What began as a friendship and a bond over the loss of Jonah became something else.
Eventually, Brett did move in and make some changes to the home, all for Justice. The way he embraced my son is possibly the thing I loved the most in the beginning. He did build the swing set and rock wall for climbing to the top of the slide for Justice. He was the one to dig out and install this trampoline. The house may not be Brett’s technically, but it is his home. There really isn’t a part of it now he hasn’t touched.
I met Brett at Jonah’s funeral. As part of Jonah’s unit, he took his role as brother’s keeper seriously. To him, they were brother’s in arms and it became his duty to step into Jonah’s shoes. I can’t say there was an instant attraction. Frankly, I was on autopilot and focused on settling in for my son. Having a man, a partner, a lover, none of that was even on my mind. No, my entire being was wrapped up in Justice.
The moment his screaming, wet body was placed in my arms, Justice Jonah Schneider became my whole world. He will forever be the center of my universe. The love of a parent to a child is indescribable. The intense connection to him was instantaneous. Every emotion for my son is bigger than anything I have felt in my whole life. Even in the throes of grief, I found love, I found hope in my little man.
Nothing about the pregnancy or birth went according to plan. I dreamed of Jonah and I having a house and raising babies together. It all was cut short when his convoy was ambushed. In a blink it was over. By the time the Army even got the news to me, hours had passed. With the time difference between us, I technically found out a full day after his passing. The moment the commanding officer came to my door everything changed. Even before he spoke.
We didn’t get to grow old together. I didn’t get to hold his hand even one more time. I was six months pregnant when Jonah died. As he came off the plane, his basic box covered in an American flag, I stood there and watched. I followed the soldiers carrying him in and stayed beside him as long as they allowed.
Once he was at the funeral home, they offered to let me see him. I declined as the commander said his body had been badly mutilated and then burned. Instead, I was handed his dog tags and given privacy with the box. It wasn’t a basic box, it was a casket, but he wasn’t supposed to return to me contained. For a moment I was tempted to open it. To hold his hand, touch his face. Being pregnant and having vivid dreams as it was, I decided against it. The funeral home was kind enough to let me sleep on the floor beside his box that night. I had decisions to make. Decisions I wanted to make with Jonah. I sat on the carpet of their visitation room with my husband in a white casket on the floor in front of me. I laid my head on that casket and whispered all my questions.
In my heart, I wasn’t sure I could or would stay in North Carolina. I wasn’t sure what I would decide for home. The only thing I knew was wherever I went it was home for Jonah. I wouldn’t be apart from him. That night I decided to cremate Jonah. His urn chosen the next morning; things fell into place. Two days later, his memorial service was held. After the presentation of his flag, the urn was placed in my hands to come home. Holding him against my belly, as close as I could get him to our unborn child, I decided I would stay in North Carolina. Our baby would know the life of a soldier as best as I could give it to him. He would know his daddy died a hero and the pride everyone hear feels to be an American and to be part of the United States Army. Like our wedding, I would raise our son with respect for the service his dad so proudly did.
