Another Homecoming

"I must warn you, he is in grave condition and is not conscious." The doctor was a humorless man, a man who had see too much death and maiming among the young. He was talking to a very young woman, a mother of a two-month-old baby in the sterile, white halls of a military hospital. The smell of ether, disinfectant and strangely, brownies hung in the air. The intensive care unit was alarmingly quiet with only the sound of quiet beeping from the equipment.

"Where is that ether smell coming from?" the young wife thought irrationally to herself. She was frightened. More frightened than she had ever been. Her mother was with her and they were holding hands together so tightly no blood was getting to their fingers. They didn't notice the painful squeeze each was giving the other; in fact, neither one felt anything nor saw anything except the door they were about to enter. They barely registered the doctor was talking to them.

The doctor stepped in front of them and slowly opened the door, his form blocking the women's sight into the room. Slowly he entered and they followed, walking as if they were conjoined twins, their eyes wide with the fear and taste of acid in their mouths.

As the doctor moved out of the way what they saw didn't make rational sense to them. Underneath a pile of tubes and wires, linens and bandages lay a form. They could see a swollen and distorted face, but they could not recognize the person who lay there. The mother gasped. Was this really her beloved only son? Please, God, let there be a mistake. The young mother was in complete shock. She became a statue. Here was the love of her life, on the cusp of death, no legs and missing an arm and barely recognizabe as a human being. Dear God, let this be a mistake!

But it wasn't a mistake. This was the man one of these women gave birth to and raised through many tribulations and the man the other woman loved more than her life, the father of her child. It all came to her at once. Live or die, her life was changed forever. Her daughter would never know the man she had married, who her father was. This man, though she still loved him deeply would be changed, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally forever, if he even lived. Life would never be like it was before.

The young wife stood dumbfounded for an eternal minute. Tears threatening, but not able to come forth. The devastation she was looking at was just too awesome to comprehend. Then she felt something in her free hand. It was round, coldly metal and a little bit sharp. She began to remember she had a duty to perfom and she took the few hesitating steps she needed to get close to her husband. Nothing changed on that incredibly long journey of a few feet to his side. He lay just as still, something pumping his chest up and down, something beeping behind his bed and everything incredibly still and quiet.

Slowly she bent down and kissed the swollen, distorted face that was on that bed. Quietly, with a great deal of dignity, pride and sorrow, she placed the Congressional Medal of Honor the President handed to her in the ceremony earlier onto his pillow. Since her husband was not expected to live, they proceeded with the ceremony, even before he'd been able to make it back to the States.

The young wife fingered the medal she'd just put on the pillow and then kissed her husband once more. She had to get back to her daughter so she and her mother began to slowly walk out of the room. Without looking back they went out the door. Halfway down the hall, the young wife's legs gave out and all she could do was cry. She sobbed as she'd never sobbed before. She and her mother sat in the middle of the hallway clutching each other, weeping and screaming. The anger, the hurt, the loss, the unfairness of it all was more than they could bear.

The nurses and doctors kept about their business, hardly even noticing the two women. Another afternoon at the hospital was just about to turn into another evening at the hospital.