No one will ever love him like I loved him.
We were so young when we met. Of course, we didn't feel young.
My mother had just been diagnosed with cancer, and I had transferred to Pike's Peak Community College to be close to her and Dad.
So, I started my junior year of college with some trepidation, but it wasn't long before I met Jack, a fourth-year cadet. Somehow he made me feel as though everything was going to be all right. His sense of humor was unique, but it touched me in a way I'd never known before.
I began to love him.
***
He took me to the planetarium and observatory at the Academy for our first date. It was a crisp autumn night, and we stood shoulder to shoulder. We did that often over the years: gained strength and warmth from being together.
I had always thought of myself as a strong person -- in mind if not in body -- but he radiated a strength that was overwhelming at times. It was almost as though he believed he was superhuman; and I believed it, too.
Our parents met when his came out to see him graduate as a lieutenant. Everyone seemed to approve, and I was thrilled.
Our love was challenged when he took his first tour of duty. I spent my senior year alone, nearly memorizing each of his brief letters, and responding with an outpouring of emotion. Our love grew even stronger amidst the adversity.
***
I see him standing in his full-dress uniform, and he is beaming. I can't help but remember another day when he was dressed like that, and I wore white.
I married Lieutenant Jack O'Neill. A few years later, Captain O'Neill held our son for the first time. We named him Charles, but never called him anything but "Charlie."
Our love grew again into the shared love for our son.
***
When he went away to fight in the Gulf, I moved back to Winter Park, CO to be close to my mother, who was about to loose her fight with cancer. She had lived longer than expected, but that didn't make it any easier to raise a toddler alone while grieving.
Jack never got the telegram about the funeral. Sometime that week, he'd left on an "unofficial" mission. A few days later, I got a telegram of my own. Jack was missing in action.
For a while, my world consisted of Charlie, Dad, and my own inability to let Jack go. Charlie was too young to understand, and dad was feeling mom's absence too strongly to help.
Sometimes at night, I'd look up at the stars and wonder if -- wherever he was -- he could see any of those constellations that had always fascinated him. I'd choose a star and wish for his safe return until I could almost feel his presence, almost remember what it felt like for him to hold me.
Then, I'd go to bed, wishing, praying even, that the morning would bring good news. One morning, my wish came true. Soon after that, Charlie and I went to Peterson AFB to wait for him.
I didn't think it was possible for him look that weak. He never told me all that happened, and I didn't want him to. I saw more than I needed in his eyes, as he held us for the first time in over six months.
"I thought of you," he whispered in my hear. "I love you, baby."
I knew that it would be difficult, but I didn't doubt that our love would prevail, even in this.
***
Fortified against the horrors of war, we never imagined that the most horrific thing of all would happen right in our own home. A single gunshot changed our lives forever. Suddenly, I didn't know him anymore; yet deep inside, I still loved him in a way that no one else ever could. Our son's death was a bond that hurt too much to bear. We said good-bye.
***
I think I've seen her somewhere before -- the new Mrs. O'Neill. It must have been that time a couple of years after Charlie died that someone (or something) that had looked like him had made an appearance. Yes, that must have been where I saw her.
As the newly-married couple dances the first dance of their reception, I see something in the way they look at each other. It's a kind of communication that I can't fathom. Obviously, Jack has met his match. He seems so open with her, so . . . alive. It's good to see, but it does make me feel somewhat wistful.
Once upon a time, I had drawn strength from him. Now, as he holds her close, it's plain to see that he draws strength from her.
It's different -- of course it is -- in many ways; yet in others it's the same. They love each other unconditionally, inside and out.
As they open the floor for more couples, my husband draws me to my feet. I wonder at the fate that has allowed us to find each other now, perfect for each other, and at just the right time.
We've already spent two happy years together, and we look forward to many, many more. Jack is also obviously happy. A wife's understanding has begun to heal him, just as a husband's patient love has brought me back to myself.
She's done for him what I could not, but even as I rest my head on my husband's shoulder, I sigh. Nothing else can be like that first love, with its freshness and youthful exuberance; yet this new love -- more patient, more mature -- is deeper. Life has taught both of us much, and I'm married to the man of my new life.
~end~
Copyright (c) 2003 Allie O'Neal alliesings@hotmail.com
We were so young when we met. Of course, we didn't feel young.
My mother had just been diagnosed with cancer, and I had transferred to Pike's Peak Community College to be close to her and Dad.
So, I started my junior year of college with some trepidation, but it wasn't long before I met Jack, a fourth-year cadet. Somehow he made me feel as though everything was going to be all right. His sense of humor was unique, but it touched me in a way I'd never known before.
I began to love him.
***
He took me to the planetarium and observatory at the Academy for our first date. It was a crisp autumn night, and we stood shoulder to shoulder. We did that often over the years: gained strength and warmth from being together.
I had always thought of myself as a strong person -- in mind if not in body -- but he radiated a strength that was overwhelming at times. It was almost as though he believed he was superhuman; and I believed it, too.
Our parents met when his came out to see him graduate as a lieutenant. Everyone seemed to approve, and I was thrilled.
Our love was challenged when he took his first tour of duty. I spent my senior year alone, nearly memorizing each of his brief letters, and responding with an outpouring of emotion. Our love grew even stronger amidst the adversity.
***
I see him standing in his full-dress uniform, and he is beaming. I can't help but remember another day when he was dressed like that, and I wore white.
I married Lieutenant Jack O'Neill. A few years later, Captain O'Neill held our son for the first time. We named him Charles, but never called him anything but "Charlie."
Our love grew again into the shared love for our son.
***
When he went away to fight in the Gulf, I moved back to Winter Park, CO to be close to my mother, who was about to loose her fight with cancer. She had lived longer than expected, but that didn't make it any easier to raise a toddler alone while grieving.
Jack never got the telegram about the funeral. Sometime that week, he'd left on an "unofficial" mission. A few days later, I got a telegram of my own. Jack was missing in action.
For a while, my world consisted of Charlie, Dad, and my own inability to let Jack go. Charlie was too young to understand, and dad was feeling mom's absence too strongly to help.
Sometimes at night, I'd look up at the stars and wonder if -- wherever he was -- he could see any of those constellations that had always fascinated him. I'd choose a star and wish for his safe return until I could almost feel his presence, almost remember what it felt like for him to hold me.
Then, I'd go to bed, wishing, praying even, that the morning would bring good news. One morning, my wish came true. Soon after that, Charlie and I went to Peterson AFB to wait for him.
I didn't think it was possible for him look that weak. He never told me all that happened, and I didn't want him to. I saw more than I needed in his eyes, as he held us for the first time in over six months.
"I thought of you," he whispered in my hear. "I love you, baby."
I knew that it would be difficult, but I didn't doubt that our love would prevail, even in this.
***
Fortified against the horrors of war, we never imagined that the most horrific thing of all would happen right in our own home. A single gunshot changed our lives forever. Suddenly, I didn't know him anymore; yet deep inside, I still loved him in a way that no one else ever could. Our son's death was a bond that hurt too much to bear. We said good-bye.
***
I think I've seen her somewhere before -- the new Mrs. O'Neill. It must have been that time a couple of years after Charlie died that someone (or something) that had looked like him had made an appearance. Yes, that must have been where I saw her.
As the newly-married couple dances the first dance of their reception, I see something in the way they look at each other. It's a kind of communication that I can't fathom. Obviously, Jack has met his match. He seems so open with her, so . . . alive. It's good to see, but it does make me feel somewhat wistful.
Once upon a time, I had drawn strength from him. Now, as he holds her close, it's plain to see that he draws strength from her.
It's different -- of course it is -- in many ways; yet in others it's the same. They love each other unconditionally, inside and out.
As they open the floor for more couples, my husband draws me to my feet. I wonder at the fate that has allowed us to find each other now, perfect for each other, and at just the right time.
We've already spent two happy years together, and we look forward to many, many more. Jack is also obviously happy. A wife's understanding has begun to heal him, just as a husband's patient love has brought me back to myself.
She's done for him what I could not, but even as I rest my head on my husband's shoulder, I sigh. Nothing else can be like that first love, with its freshness and youthful exuberance; yet this new love -- more patient, more mature -- is deeper. Life has taught both of us much, and I'm married to the man of my new life.
~end~
Copyright (c) 2003 Allie O'Neal alliesings@hotmail.com