BEOWULF

BEOWULF

Mary Elizabeth Rhudy
705 Bragg Circle
Tullahoma, TN  37388
931-307-1060
[e-mail]



There was nothing left of the face except a mass of healing burns and peeling skin. The boy who looked up at Ivan had been a tall, strong man who skated with the grace of angels but wielded a hockey stick like a demon. Paul had had a devilish grin that made the girls go weak-kneed and could charm the rattle off a snake. He had also had a strong sense of duty and had enlisted in the Marines shortly after war was declared on Iraq. He and Ivan had taken part in charity hockey games with the Los Angeles Kings.
They had written to each other often while Paul was deployed and had become close friends. Even when things were as bad as they could get in Iraq, Paul would always manage to find some humour in the situation and would even send jokes and stories that would leave Ivan in tears with laughter. Ivan would send pictures of Pit Bull Terrier puppies he was helping to rehabilitate. Paul had written to him that he had "SUCKER" written all over himself in neon letters in every conceivable dog language.
Ivan had been through a lot, himself, and had the physical and emotional scars to prove it. He was 6'5", broad-shouldered, muscular and had a way of glowering that led people to believe he burned and pillaged six towns every morning before breakfast. He was a tough character. But the boy looking up at him and his fight to heal had reduced him to feeling lost and powerless to help.
Paul, who was only twenty-five and who should have been tearing up the ice and making time with the girls, was dying. An IED had blown up his armoured vehicle and five of his friends with it, and Paul had suffered burns over 90% of his body. The surgeons and burn specialists at NMC  Bethesda said it was a miracle he had held on for so long.
Ivan had come to visit Paul that day because he had gotten a call from Paul's mother. The boy's nightmares from the explosion were getting worse, and he had been asking to see him. Ivan said, "Sure, I can come. No problem. But can I bring a friend with me? I have a new friend I think Paul will want to meet."
"Of course," she said. "Bring him along, too."
Ivan walked into Paul's room with his new friend by his side on a leash. "Damn," Paul said. "That dog's about as ugly as it gets." Ivan's friend was a Pit Bull Terrier puppy that had been rescued from a meth lab that blew up. He was one of two from a litter of five that had survived. The others had been killed or had to be put down. His face was badly injured, and he still had stitches that made him look like Frankenstein's monster.
Ivan had been working with the dog to help him recover from abuse and neglect, but the dog was still wary of people. He had bad dreams, too. So far, Ivan was the only human he had come to trust. But he looked at Paul and slowly walked towards the bed. He sniffed and looked tentatively back at Ivan. Then he leaped up on the bed and settled his head on Paul's stomach. Paul reached a bandaged hand to pet the dog and began to cry. Months of pain and grief and fear had found a release, at last, and for the first time since the explosion and death of his friends, he had been able to cry. Ivan knew that his latest orphan had found a home.
Ivan had to go out of town for a few weeks to do some filming for a movie, but Paul and his mother called often to let him know how Beowulf - Paul had named him after his favourite poem - was getting on. After the vet took out Beowulf's stitches, they sent pictures by cell phone to show how well he had healed. The day after Ivan got home, her received a letter from Paul.
Dear Ivan,
I am writing to let you know how grateful I am to you for bringing me Beowulf. We both got a raw deal and we both have had a lot to work through. But Beowulf has helped me find courage I didn't know I had. Caring for him and helping him to not be afraid has shown me that I have nothing to fear. And that has helped me to find the peace I need to let go. I have been so afraid to sleep, because I was afraid I would see the faces of my buddies in that burning truck. But Beowulf curls up next to me and his strength gives me the courage to be still and know that God is with me, and I can let go. Beowulf has taught me that silence is the greatest healer. Goodbye, my friend. I will be okay, now.
Paul

There was a short note from Paul's mother. The night Paul died, he had been watching a film version of the epic Beowulf poem and had dozed off. He passed away in his sleep with Beowulf in his lap.