Jack sat down and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. As quickly as he sat
down he got up and started to pace the room. "I think I'll wait for him out
here," he said, motioning to the living room where he went and resumed his
pacing.
While Sara finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes she told Sydney to go and keep her father company.
"Dad, you OK?" Sydney asked, as she joined him in the living room.
He told her that he was fine. He was feeling foolish for acting like a nervous child.
They sat down on the couch and looked through the photo album, again. Sydney told Jack that she wished she could have inherited his curly hair. He assured her that having those many curls was a burden. "I don't know what was worse, being teased by the girls who thought they were cute or the boys that thought they made me look like sissy. Not to mention the horrors of grooming it."
Twenty minutes after Don called Sara escorted him into the living room where awkward greetings were exchanged.
Sydney said that she would leave the two men alone so that they could talk in private. Don insisted that there was no reason for her or Sara to leave. The truth was that he was nervous about what he was about to do. He felt that if Jack was going to have a negative reaction, to what he came to say, than he would be much more controlled if there were others in the room.
Jack and Sydney sat back on the couch and Sara sat in a chair. Don remained standing. As they waited for him to speak they noticed a flat black case in his hand as well as an old-time airmail enveloped.
Once everyone was seated Don took a deep breath and addressed his son. "Jon, I have something here that belongs to you. I was suppose to give it to you years ago, but... well..." It was obvious that Don was unsure of how to say what he came to say. He had to backtrack.
"You remember that letter we got from Sean, on that day?" He didn't have to say what day he was referring too as everyone knew it was the day that Rebecca cut her wrists. Don had never shared the contents of the letter with anyone, except Rebecca. He read it to her on her deathbed.
He was now prepared to share it with his granddaughter, sister and most importantly, with his son. He had read the letter an infinite number of times, over the years. He had every word of it memorized. Due to Sean's hand injuries, the letter was written by one of the nurses.
Don informed his family that Sean expressed fear and concern about what was happening in Viet Nam. He told them about the sniper attack. He downplayed the importance of what he did to bring it to an end and the seriousness of his injuries.
He talked about his mother's premonition, regarding his safety. He said he understood what she meant. He wanted them to know that in case he didn't make it home that he loved them very much.
It was the last part of the letter that Don was on edge about. His fear was that he hadn't seen his son in twenty-five years and now he was about to try and rectify a mistake that could send him away, forever.
Don sat in a chair, across from Jack, as he continued to reveal the letter's contents. "He told us that he was nominated for a medal because of what he had done during the sniper attack. He said that if he didn't make home, that he wanted you to have it. He thought that maybe I could give it to you when you left for the Academy or for college, if that was what you decided to do."
This was the part that Don was most concerned about. He told Jack, "I never gave it to you because he put a little loophole in his instructions. He said I could give it to you then, or whenever I felt you were able to understand what it meant."
Don paused and looked at Jack. As usual, he was unable to read his son's emotion. He continued, "I'm sorry Jon, I guess I abused that last part. I always planned to give it to you when you went to the Academy, but... well, I was angry at you for not going."
Don looked down at the items in his hands. Jack's silent stare was making him nervous. "I thought I was justified for not giving it to you because he said to give it to you when you understood what it meant. I thought that someone who turned his back on serving his country and then got involved in protests against his country, that that person was not capable of understanding what Sean sacrificed."
Looking up at Jack, Don said, "I was wrong, Jon. I should have given it to you when you left for college. It wasn't my place to judge the decisions you made for your life."
Don stood up and handed Jack the box and envelope he had brought with him.
Jack's hand shook as he reached up and accepted the items. He was startled to see the envelope was addressed to him.
Another mystery was solved. Whenever Sean sent his parents a letter, he always sent a separate one for Jack. Jack always wondered why he never got a last letter, like his parents did. He assumed that things were going bad and Sean didn't have time to bother with telling a child what it was like to fish or water ski on the Mekong River.
Jack laid the box down on the coffee table. He opened the envelope and read the letter.
Dear Johnny,
If you're reading this, it means that I didn't come home from Viet Nam. I hurt my hands the other day so I can't write this letter by myself. I wish you could see the beautiful nurse that is writing it for me. Her name is Carmen. She's as beautiful and exotic as her name. She promised to take me dancing tonight. (I did not-c).
General Roush came by yesterday and said I was going to get a medal because of something that happened, in our camp. I'm sure you'll hear about it, so I won't go into it now. I told Dad that if I don't come home, that he should save this letter and the medal and give it to you when you're grown- up and you could understand what it means.
They say I'm entitled to a medal because of my bravery. Between you, Carmen, and me what I did had nothing to do with bravery. What I did was out of shear, undeniable, fear. I knew that the artillery tent would blow up if the fire got to it and we'd all be killed.
If medals are given to men who perform brave deeds, then you deserve it more than I do. You're the bravest person I've ever known. You amaze me the way you endured the things that you endured, without complaint. The way you watch out for Mom, no matter what she does to you. The way you strive to make Dad proud of you, even though he never notices.
I don't know how you do it day after day. I never could. But, you knew that, didn't you?
I want to explain to you why I left, so that when you think about me, you won't hate me. I left because they were suffocating me, Johnny. I couldn't take it anymore. Mom was constantly clinging to me and Dad had expectations for me that I could never achieve. I thought I would go crazy if I stayed there. So I ran at the first opportunity that came by.
I heard you crying, the night before I left. I wanted to come and talk to you, but I didn't know what to say. You see, I always felt guilty about abandoning you, even though I knew you would understood why I had to go. Thank you, for letting me go.
They're calling for the mail, so I have to finish this fast. There are so many other things I want to tell you, but there's no time. Maybe you'll never see this letter and I can tell you when I get home.
In case I don't make it home, my wish for you is that you make it to the moon someday, and on the way, that you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved.
Then in a barely legible script, he signed the letter with his injured hands.
While Jack was reading the letter, Sydney sat back on the couch. Although she desperately wanted to know what the letter said, she didn't want to do anything to invade her father's privacy.
If he wanted her to see the letter then he would share it with her. Her hope was that they were developing a relationship for which he would share such an intimate moment. Her fear was that they would never have such a relationship.
When Jack finished reading the letter he closed his eyes. He was on the verge of doing what he hadn't done since the night before Sean left and the night his wife died.
When Don realized that Jack was done reading, he nervously asked him, "Are you angry with me?"
Jack shook his head and said, "I'm not angry." He looked up at Don and said, "I'm tried of being angry. You were right to not to give this to me, before. I wouldn't have appreciated what it meant."
Looking back down at the letter, he added, "Besides, I didn't need it back then, but I need it now. Thank you."
Then he turned to Sydney and offered her the letter. "Are you sure you want me to read this?" she asked him.
"I'm sure."
While Sydney was reading the letter, Jack opened the black box that contained Sean's Medal of Honor. This was the first time he had taken a close look at it. He remembered his father showing it to anyone who came over, but Jack never had an interest in it.
When he was child the Medal represented the death of both his brother and mother. Forty years later it was a connection to his past. A connection that he realized he did not want to lose, again.
Unlike Jack, Sydney saw no reason to hold back her tears, as she read the letter. "This is beautiful, Dad," she told him.
Then he showed her the Medal. "It's magnificent," she said as she took the case from him and examined it.
Jack shared the letter with Sara and Don. When Don got to the part where Sean explained why he left, he looked up at Jack, who had been watching him. "I guess, I drove both my boys away," he said, as he handed the letter back to Jack.
Then he stood up and said, "I should be going. It was good to see you again, Jon. Maybe you could call once in awhile?"
Jack stood up when Don did. He was sorry that he was hurt by what he read. As Jack struggled to think of the appropriate thing to say, Sydney spoke up. "Grandfather, could you wait, just one minute?"
Then to Jack she said, "Dad, could I see you in the kitchen?"
Before Jack had a chance to protest, Sydney grabbed his hand and led him to the other room.
While Sara finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes she told Sydney to go and keep her father company.
"Dad, you OK?" Sydney asked, as she joined him in the living room.
He told her that he was fine. He was feeling foolish for acting like a nervous child.
They sat down on the couch and looked through the photo album, again. Sydney told Jack that she wished she could have inherited his curly hair. He assured her that having those many curls was a burden. "I don't know what was worse, being teased by the girls who thought they were cute or the boys that thought they made me look like sissy. Not to mention the horrors of grooming it."
Twenty minutes after Don called Sara escorted him into the living room where awkward greetings were exchanged.
Sydney said that she would leave the two men alone so that they could talk in private. Don insisted that there was no reason for her or Sara to leave. The truth was that he was nervous about what he was about to do. He felt that if Jack was going to have a negative reaction, to what he came to say, than he would be much more controlled if there were others in the room.
Jack and Sydney sat back on the couch and Sara sat in a chair. Don remained standing. As they waited for him to speak they noticed a flat black case in his hand as well as an old-time airmail enveloped.
Once everyone was seated Don took a deep breath and addressed his son. "Jon, I have something here that belongs to you. I was suppose to give it to you years ago, but... well..." It was obvious that Don was unsure of how to say what he came to say. He had to backtrack.
"You remember that letter we got from Sean, on that day?" He didn't have to say what day he was referring too as everyone knew it was the day that Rebecca cut her wrists. Don had never shared the contents of the letter with anyone, except Rebecca. He read it to her on her deathbed.
He was now prepared to share it with his granddaughter, sister and most importantly, with his son. He had read the letter an infinite number of times, over the years. He had every word of it memorized. Due to Sean's hand injuries, the letter was written by one of the nurses.
Don informed his family that Sean expressed fear and concern about what was happening in Viet Nam. He told them about the sniper attack. He downplayed the importance of what he did to bring it to an end and the seriousness of his injuries.
He talked about his mother's premonition, regarding his safety. He said he understood what she meant. He wanted them to know that in case he didn't make it home that he loved them very much.
It was the last part of the letter that Don was on edge about. His fear was that he hadn't seen his son in twenty-five years and now he was about to try and rectify a mistake that could send him away, forever.
Don sat in a chair, across from Jack, as he continued to reveal the letter's contents. "He told us that he was nominated for a medal because of what he had done during the sniper attack. He said that if he didn't make home, that he wanted you to have it. He thought that maybe I could give it to you when you left for the Academy or for college, if that was what you decided to do."
This was the part that Don was most concerned about. He told Jack, "I never gave it to you because he put a little loophole in his instructions. He said I could give it to you then, or whenever I felt you were able to understand what it meant."
Don paused and looked at Jack. As usual, he was unable to read his son's emotion. He continued, "I'm sorry Jon, I guess I abused that last part. I always planned to give it to you when you went to the Academy, but... well, I was angry at you for not going."
Don looked down at the items in his hands. Jack's silent stare was making him nervous. "I thought I was justified for not giving it to you because he said to give it to you when you understood what it meant. I thought that someone who turned his back on serving his country and then got involved in protests against his country, that that person was not capable of understanding what Sean sacrificed."
Looking up at Jack, Don said, "I was wrong, Jon. I should have given it to you when you left for college. It wasn't my place to judge the decisions you made for your life."
Don stood up and handed Jack the box and envelope he had brought with him.
Jack's hand shook as he reached up and accepted the items. He was startled to see the envelope was addressed to him.
Another mystery was solved. Whenever Sean sent his parents a letter, he always sent a separate one for Jack. Jack always wondered why he never got a last letter, like his parents did. He assumed that things were going bad and Sean didn't have time to bother with telling a child what it was like to fish or water ski on the Mekong River.
Jack laid the box down on the coffee table. He opened the envelope and read the letter.
Dear Johnny,
If you're reading this, it means that I didn't come home from Viet Nam. I hurt my hands the other day so I can't write this letter by myself. I wish you could see the beautiful nurse that is writing it for me. Her name is Carmen. She's as beautiful and exotic as her name. She promised to take me dancing tonight. (I did not-c).
General Roush came by yesterday and said I was going to get a medal because of something that happened, in our camp. I'm sure you'll hear about it, so I won't go into it now. I told Dad that if I don't come home, that he should save this letter and the medal and give it to you when you're grown- up and you could understand what it means.
They say I'm entitled to a medal because of my bravery. Between you, Carmen, and me what I did had nothing to do with bravery. What I did was out of shear, undeniable, fear. I knew that the artillery tent would blow up if the fire got to it and we'd all be killed.
If medals are given to men who perform brave deeds, then you deserve it more than I do. You're the bravest person I've ever known. You amaze me the way you endured the things that you endured, without complaint. The way you watch out for Mom, no matter what she does to you. The way you strive to make Dad proud of you, even though he never notices.
I don't know how you do it day after day. I never could. But, you knew that, didn't you?
I want to explain to you why I left, so that when you think about me, you won't hate me. I left because they were suffocating me, Johnny. I couldn't take it anymore. Mom was constantly clinging to me and Dad had expectations for me that I could never achieve. I thought I would go crazy if I stayed there. So I ran at the first opportunity that came by.
I heard you crying, the night before I left. I wanted to come and talk to you, but I didn't know what to say. You see, I always felt guilty about abandoning you, even though I knew you would understood why I had to go. Thank you, for letting me go.
They're calling for the mail, so I have to finish this fast. There are so many other things I want to tell you, but there's no time. Maybe you'll never see this letter and I can tell you when I get home.
In case I don't make it home, my wish for you is that you make it to the moon someday, and on the way, that you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved.
Then in a barely legible script, he signed the letter with his injured hands.
While Jack was reading the letter, Sydney sat back on the couch. Although she desperately wanted to know what the letter said, she didn't want to do anything to invade her father's privacy.
If he wanted her to see the letter then he would share it with her. Her hope was that they were developing a relationship for which he would share such an intimate moment. Her fear was that they would never have such a relationship.
When Jack finished reading the letter he closed his eyes. He was on the verge of doing what he hadn't done since the night before Sean left and the night his wife died.
When Don realized that Jack was done reading, he nervously asked him, "Are you angry with me?"
Jack shook his head and said, "I'm not angry." He looked up at Don and said, "I'm tried of being angry. You were right to not to give this to me, before. I wouldn't have appreciated what it meant."
Looking back down at the letter, he added, "Besides, I didn't need it back then, but I need it now. Thank you."
Then he turned to Sydney and offered her the letter. "Are you sure you want me to read this?" she asked him.
"I'm sure."
While Sydney was reading the letter, Jack opened the black box that contained Sean's Medal of Honor. This was the first time he had taken a close look at it. He remembered his father showing it to anyone who came over, but Jack never had an interest in it.
When he was child the Medal represented the death of both his brother and mother. Forty years later it was a connection to his past. A connection that he realized he did not want to lose, again.
Unlike Jack, Sydney saw no reason to hold back her tears, as she read the letter. "This is beautiful, Dad," she told him.
Then he showed her the Medal. "It's magnificent," she said as she took the case from him and examined it.
Jack shared the letter with Sara and Don. When Don got to the part where Sean explained why he left, he looked up at Jack, who had been watching him. "I guess, I drove both my boys away," he said, as he handed the letter back to Jack.
Then he stood up and said, "I should be going. It was good to see you again, Jon. Maybe you could call once in awhile?"
Jack stood up when Don did. He was sorry that he was hurt by what he read. As Jack struggled to think of the appropriate thing to say, Sydney spoke up. "Grandfather, could you wait, just one minute?"
Then to Jack she said, "Dad, could I see you in the kitchen?"
Before Jack had a chance to protest, Sydney grabbed his hand and led him to the other room.