“I’m Chief Warrant Officer Mayer,” he says.
“Did she make it?” I ask, feeling my heart fall to the pit of my stomach.
The Chief Warrant Officer breaks eye contact for a moment, then looks back at me and gently shakes his head.
I took a step outside to close the door a bit behind me. “Sir, if we could skip the letter for Parker’s sake, I would greatly appreciate it.”
With an agreeable nod, the Chief Warrant Officer continues, “Of course, son. You’re one of us.”
“How did it happen?”
“Staff Sergeant Lane’s vehicle was hit by an RPG while just outside of Kabul, Afghanistan on April 12th at around thirteen hundred.”
I pull in a deep breath as I feel my eyes well up. With my fists clenched by my side, I move my focus to the right, trying to compose myself.
The Chief Warrant Officer must have seen my thousand-yard stare. “You’ve seen it too, son, haven’t you? I’m sorry you have to go through this on the other side.”
My brain is still processing the officer’s statement, and though I know how easy a life can end overseas. I made it through the days by convincing myself it would never happen to me or Abby. I was wrong.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks. His question was not a pre-written statement compiled of notification questions. It is the human question from Marine to Marine.
“I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully. “She was my closest friend.” I speak through a whisper so Parker doesn't hear anything.
“I understand, but if there’s anyone who can get through this with a little girl, it’s going to be you. I can see the sadness in your eyes. I have no doubt that you care for her very deeply.”
“Yes, thank you, sir.”
“Would you mind providing us with your contact information? I’ll follow up with you soon to start discussing the details.”
“Of course, sir,” I mutter before spouting off my phone number.
The Chief Warrant Officer slips the condolence letter into my hand. “Here. I’m sure you know what’s in here.”
“Yes, sir, I do. Thank you very much.”
“Hang in there, devil. We’ll talk soon.”
I press my lips together and turn to walk back inside, finding Parker standing just a few feet away with wonder filling her big blue eyes.
After I manage to close the door, I turn around slowly and slide my back down against the door until I am seated on the entryway mat. Parker is waiting for me to say something but I’m not sure how much she will or won’t understand.
I open my arms for Parker to sit between my legs so I can hold her. She doesn’t ask any questions. I’m not sure if she knows what to ask. She is good with her words for a four-year-old but isn’t very talkative.
“Why are you sad?” she finally asks.
I don’t know how to tell you something, Parker. You’re too little for this,” I explain as if she should understand what I’m talking about. She presses her head against my chest and wraps her hands around my right arm.
“Do you have a boo-boo?” she asks.
My heart will never be the same. There's a hole there, and it’s more of a boo-boo than I can explain to the little girl whose world will never be the same. “Inside, yes,” I say.
I twist Parker around to face me, and she folds her legs in like a pretzel, focusing on my eyes. “Mama was hurt very badly, and she died, Parker.” The words come out like knives that are being thrown at her, however, I have been trained to explain the truth in real words rather than long explanations that cause more pain in the long run. “She won’t be coming home.”
Parker doesn’t blink as she continues to stare at me, but I don’t see confusion written into her eyes. “That’s why she said goodbye,” Parker says.
I’m not sure how she is piecing the facts together but I don’t want to disagree. “Is this forever?” Parker asks.
