Today, June 6, 2024, is the 80th anniversary of D-Day. It also happens to be my birthday. As a result, I have always been a bit fascinated by this day in history, so I wanted to do a little something to commemorate it. I am not a historian, nor am I a medical professional. But I do hope you enjoy it and if you do, please leave a review.

June 3

Jessica peered at the calendar above her computer desk, willing the days to fast forward to the 7th. The last two nights had been difficult and she knew it would only get worse before it would get better. Hopefully by the 7th, they would both sleep soundly again. At least, that had been the pattern in their first year of marriage and their year living together before that.

Still, Jessica felt an overwhelming unease, knowing that she could do nothing to shake it.

Seth had shared a few years ago that he had been at Normandy Beach on D-Day. He had spoken about that day, once and only once. She had asked for his help that particular D-Day morning to fix her toaster. He had tried to put her off, but she had not listened to his tone of voice on the phone the night before. Grady was visiting that weekend and she wanted her toaster to work when she made breakfast for him.

Seth had come over to look at the broken appliance the next morning, but he had grumbled and been surly the moment he walked in the door. She had felt the tension, understanding that the toaster was not the main issue, yet had been too tentative to ask what was. Instead, when he attempted to fix it and it still didn't work, she had asked if he had tried to do something in particular with the wiring. He had lost it. She had never seen or heard him speak to anyone the way he spoke to her that morning. His tone of voice had been cruel even, telling her that if she knew what was wrong, why did she have to bother him? He had not meant it - much - and the anger and pain he felt was certainly not caused by Jessica. But his response and mean-spiritedness had hurt her terribly, causing her to erupt in a flood of tears that was both embarrassing and impossible to ignore. His face had changed, in obvious shock and shame at how he had behaved to his best friend and the woman he loved even if he had never told her that before.

Mortified, he walked over to her as she stood by the counter and wrapped his arms around her, telling her he was sorry for how he had treated her. She had allowed him to comfort her, even though her first reaction at his touch was fear at what would happen next. She understood that he was remorseful and while he always had a grumpy exterior, he was gentle with his hands and she knew he would never be violent. She had leaned into his embrace, surprised when she realized that he had begun to cry as well. Feeling tears fall on the side of her head, she had pulled back, gazing at him in surprise.

Seth?

Jess, can we sit for a few minutes? I owe you an explanation, even though there is absolutely no excuse for how I spoke to you just now.

Nodding, she had let him pull her to the kitchen table, sitting down in chairs next to each other. He had held on to her hand, which had been comforting, as they continued to cry. Reaching over for the tissue box from the counter, they had both sought to wipe their faces with their free hands, smiling hesitantly at one another when they finished.

Jess, I don't know if you have ever noticed that my demeanor is worse than normal this time of year.

Cocking her head at him, she had wondered what he meant at first. Thinking she understood, she had asked if it was Ruth's birthday, their wedding anniversary, or perhaps the anniversary of the day she died.

Shaking his head, he denied all three.

Believe it or not, those days, while difficult, don't turn me into a hateful bastard. No, those days always make me sad and lonely, but the anger I once felt from losing Ruthie is long gone. But today…well, I was there, Jess.

What are you talking about, Seth?

Normandy. Today is D-Day. I get out of sorts every year at this time.

Oh, Seth.

Quietly, while looking down at the table in an attempt to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes every so often, he told her the terror he had felt that morning of the sixth of June in 1944, as well as the days leading up to it. How the anxiety had been crippling when they were originally set to invade on the fifth of June, only to be postponed at the last minute due to weather. He described how he was still a kid before that day, but he aged well into manhood in the span of hours. How he had believed that his dog tags would be put to use that day more than any other moment in the war. How friends who had jumped with him that day had never come home. How one friend had cried for his mother after an explosion happened mere feet from them, as Seth had knelt in the water to touch his friend's arm, witnessing him die in agony. That day had made him understand more than any other that he wanted to become a physician to heal people, not watch them be broken apart.

Oh, Seth. I didn't know.

Of course you didn't, woman. Never wanted anyone to know. I don't want anyone's pity…Jess, I never work on this day. I usually keep to myself in fact every year around this time, which may be why you didn't figure it out before now. Nobody else has ever put two and two together. I think Beverly has assumed like you that it must have been Ruth's birthday and never fought me when I always tell her not to schedule patients. But no, this day…well, it's just the day that my innocence died and my struggle with nightmares and post-traumatic stress began.

Is it like this every year?

Ayuh. Some years are worse than others but in well over forty years now, not one first week of June has ever gone by without nightmares and far too many memories on the day itself.

I see.

I am sorry, Jess. I was a sonofabitch to you this morning. No excuse for it. Yet, you deserved an explanation all the same. I need to say goodbye now. I will be alright tomorrow. Perhaps we could have dinner together?

She had wanted to insist that he let her come along that day with him. But she understood that it was not her place. They were best friends, but until that day, she had no clue about this piece of Seth's past that had obviously had such a formative part in his entrance to adulthood.

So much pain and trauma.

She had released his hand instead, following him to the door. Before she let him leave though, she had gathered him in a fierce hug, whispering that she would see him the next evening.

Thinking back over that day, Jessica believed that was the beginning of the shift that changed their friendship into something that ultimately bloomed into romance. It had not been a major shift. More settling into a comfort level with one another, having the ability to be authentic together in a truly deep and meaningful way. The only other person she had ever experienced that level of understanding with had been Frank, and she smiled thinking of the blessings both men had brought to her life.

From that day several years ago, her relationship with Seth had continued to evolve and their love had grown.

Sighing, she stared back at the calendar. Feeling restless, she considered if there was anything she could do to help. Even as she had the thought, she knew there was absolutely nothing that would ever fix it. While she was certain there were more and more therapies that would help such trauma, she knew her husband. He would never agree to seek help for something that he already dealt with as best he could. She could hear his voice, guessing that if she even ventured a suggestion, he would scoff and say something about it only being a problem for about five or six days every year and he could handle it.

It would be okay. The tension she was feeling was real though and while she desperately wanted relief from it, she knew it would pass soon enough.

June 4

In the wee hours of the early morning of the 4th, Jessica jolted awake as she felt Seth's body shake beside her. He was moaning, sounds of distress reaching her ears in the darkness, even as she could tell he had woken up.

"Seth? Darling?"

He was mumbling, perhaps already falling back asleep. She didn't want to startle him, knowing that it was not always a good thing to wake someone in the middle of a nightmare, but it was difficult to allow it to continue when she knew what was happening.

Pausing a moment to see if he would stir, she tried touching his chest, feeling him drenched in sweat. His own body jolted this time, crying out something unintelligible.

Jessica sensed that now, he was awake, even as she could just make out his silhouette, seeing his eyes blink.

He turned to make eye contact in the darkness of the bedroom, only seeing her shadow.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said gruffly.

"It's alright, darling."

"No, it's not."

"Well, I should be able to say if it is or not, so let it go." Softening her voice, knowing he was feeling out of control from his nightmare and he desperately wanted to control something, she added, "Please."

Pulling away from him to get out of bed, he made a vain attempt to grab for her hand, even as she shushed him, saying she would be right back. She rummaged around in the dresser to find him a clean undershirt. Perching on the side of the bed, she helped him sit up to change.

Jessica dropped the damp one on the floor, suddenly far too tired to stand back up to toss it in the laundry hamper. Climbing back into bed, she rolled on her side to scoot flush up to his body, wrapping her arm across his chest.

Neither spoke further, but Jessica held him the rest of the night, both of them nodding off occasionally, never sleeping deeply, but knowing that the best thing they could do for one another was to simply be present.

She could not fix his pain, but she could love him through it.

June 5

"Christ, I burnt the bread," Seth muttered, pulling the pan out of the oven, before flinging it to the back burner, the clattering of the pan, causing Jessica to jump from a few feet away, as she was preparing a salad for dinner. The bread didn't look inedible to her, barely scorched at the edges, but she knew better than to say anything.

It was not so much that she was walking on eggshells at the moment. It was more that they were both in survival mode. Neither of them had slept more than a few hours the last few nights and she knew that his outburst had nothing to do with burning the bread. It was simply a safe thing to direct his anger to.

Frank had been to war, but Jessica knew that what he experienced had been far different than what Seth had in World War II. Frank had been in planes in Korea, never on the ground in a major offensive being shot at and watching those he cared about die right before his eyes. She would not minimize Frank's experiences. He had his own demons to deal with when he returned home all those years ago, but from every historical account of D-Day that she had ever read, that had been hell on earth in a way that it seemed nothing else had ever been quite like. At least for their generation. So many men were on those beaches that day who never came home. Seth had been lucky, even as she knew that he still dealt with survivor's guilt. She knew that had also been the main factor in his career path of going into the medical field. He needed to feel that his life had meaning and that by helping to heal and save lives, the fact that his own had been spared, had been worth it. That somehow, he had been deserving of being saved.

Jessica had continued adding ingredients to the salad, mixing the dressing, as Seth had stood rigidly trying to pull his emotions together. He was breathing deeply, with his hands pressed on both sides of the stovetop, in an effort to gain control of his emotions and body. He was in the throes of panic, likely close to a full-on panic attack, but she waited, not wanting him to bite her head off if she tried to do anything.

Her movements slowed as she had finished the salad, moving the bowl to the side, before getting their plates and silverware to set the table. She did not want to crowd him or invade his personal space, as she understood that his body was on alert and every nerve triggered. But she wanted to offer something. She just wasn't sure what. Careful not to startle him, she reached with one hand to turn the burner off that the chicken dish had been simmering on, not wanting it to burn, as well as turning off the oven, now that the bread was out.

Seth did not speak, but suddenly moved, grabbing her. Pressing her against the countertop and his body, his mouth attacked her own, one hand in her hair, and the other already under her shirt exploring her back, unhooking her bra. She willingly surrendered to his touch. If her body could ground him and give him any sustenance, let alone pleasure, she would not deny him.

"Bedroom?" she asked through their open-mouthed kisses, her voice muffled.

He growled, "No, I need you now."

In less than a minute, she found herself turned towards the countertop, hands gripping the edges, feeling him undo both their trousers before moving her legs apart and entering her, claiming her. He took his pleasure with every thrust, needing to feel alive and she did her best to add to those sensations, both moaning in tandem, as she met him with every thrust. It wasn't that he was selfish or did not try to make her experience her own satisfaction, only that he needed her in a primal way that he could not put into words. He was incapable of thought, only clinging to her body, one hand on her hip and the other kneading her breast. She understood that he needed her. She was grateful that she could help meet his needs in such a basic, yet vulnerable way. She was solely focused on him, moving her hips with his own, trying her best to let him know that she would always be here for him in whatever way he needed.

Because she loved him.

Sensing that he was close, but was holding back in hopes of her finding her own release, she whispered, "It's okay, my love. Let go. I'm here," reaching to clutch his leg as she felt his body move sharply behind her.

When the waves of his release let the grip on his body go, he leaned his chest against her back, kissing her neck, as she felt tears fall on her skin. Holding her close for a few minutes, she felt his love for her even as his heart and mind were hurting. She worried that he was ashamed of his behavior and she was determined to allay any fears he may have.

Helping her clean up and right their clothing, she turned in his arms to kiss his lips, to see the look of embarrassment and shame that she had been afraid of.

"Jess, I'm so sorry. I treated you like a…like a…I can't even say the word."

"I'm not a whore, Seth." His face widened at her use of the word, but she had known what he was suggesting and she was not going to let him get away with thinking that. "I am your wife and you are my husband. You needed me and I willingly gave you myself. Besides, I quite enjoyed it." She leaned up to kiss his lips one more time, making it clear that this part of the conversation was over, before asking if he wanted to eat their dinner or save it for later.

"Would you mind if we save it? I lost my appetite. But if you are hungry, please, eat."

"I can wait. Would you like to go on to bed?"

"I suppose. Although, you know I won't sleep tonight either."

"I know. But we can hold each other and make it through the night together."

June 6

It was now the middle of the night on the morning of the sixth of June. Jessica was not sure what time it was exactly, as she did not want to have to roll over to see the clock, but she would venture a guess that it was well past midnight, but likely several hours yet before dawn.

After their lovemaking, they had gone upstairs, preparing for bed within minutes, ready to get what sleep they could. But more than anything, they knew they needed to get past the long hours ahead. Worn out from the past nights of little sleep, combined with their impromptu passion in the kitchen the night before, Jessica could not remember the last time she had been intimate while standing. The thought made her have the absurd desire to giggle. She had forgotten the lust and energy required. She had enjoyed it, feeling alive and wanted and desired, knowing Seth had needed her to feel alive himself.

Curled into his side, feeling his hand twitch against her back, she knew the nightmares had begun, feeling his body radiate tension and heat. In times past, she had woken him as soon as she knew they were happening, only to realize how terribly disorienting it was for him to be woken up in the middle of them. Even so, she knew that he trusted her and if she felt the need to wake him, he would not be angry with her. Sometimes he would remember the dreams and sometimes he would remember nothing. Even so, his body would always have a physical response of fear exhibited in various ways.

She felt her own anxiety increase as she weighed her options. She knew from past history and his own accounts that he would be alright after tonight. It wasn't that all of it disappeared by the 7th. More that the weight and heaviness of the trauma lifted until the next June. Trying first to reassure herself that they would be alright, as long as they were together, she then tried to provide some comfort to him.

Stroking his arm, face, and jaw, humming a lullaby, as if he was a child, she tried to get his body to relax, even as she knew his mind was in total control, keeping him locked down in a prison of the mind.

Touching his brow, she could feel the warm beads of sweat that were beginning to line his forehead. He was starting to moan in distress, which forced her hand. She could not bear to hear him suffering. His pain caused pain of her own. She would attempt to wake him and hope for the best.

"Darling? Wake up, Seth."

"No!" His shout, abrupt. The suddenness of his cry combined with his hands clawing her back and arms, frightened her, even as she knew he was still not awake nor was he aware of his actions, fully lost in his trauma response.

Trying to breathe deeply to calm herself, even if she was not succeeding in calming him, she willed her body to relax against his, feeling his hands begin to release against her. She wondered if she would bruise later, hoping she would not, as she knew it would make him feel even more responsible than she feared he already would.

His body was shaking slightly in fear, and she tried once again to wake him, this time prying his hands away and sitting up over him to raise her voice slightly in a more authoritative tone.

"Seth, you need to wake up."

He tried to reach for her, but she grasped his hands in her own, not letting up now, talking to him normally, keeping her voice level. She saw his tears and his eyes begin to open at the same time in the darkness of their bedroom. She knew he was still frightened, even as she sensed the exhaustion he was feeling, as she felt her own.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I just couldn't stand it any longer."

"It's alright. I'm sorry I upset you."

"You didn't."

"Liar. You're shaking, too."

Bristling a bit, she wanted to take issue with him calling her a liar, even as she waved off the fact that she had been upset.

The tables had turned and he was beginning to soothe her, tracing the lines of her arms up and down, over to her back and neck, all while speaking in a low voice.

"I'm sorry that you aren't sleeping, too. I wish there was a way you could be protected from all this."

"All this?" Scoffing, she shook her head against his body. "Seth, I'm not saying that I can't stand waking up in the middle of the night or that I begrudge you in any way for needing care. No, I can't stand watching you suffer. It is bad enough that I have to watch you have nightmares. Because I can't do anything to fix them. To take them away from you. Do you know how defeating it is to have times when you think through every possibility to fix a situation, only to discover there is nothing? And the person you love more than anything, you can't help?"

"That's where you're wrong, woman. You have done exactly what I needed you to. You have been present this week. You haven't tried to fix anything. Because you know damn well that it can't be fixed. You have been here. Still loving me. Me, Seth Hazlitt," he said, fiercely.

Tentatively, she reached to hold his dog tags, grounding them both in the stark reminder of his wartime service. She placed a kiss over the surface of his name, before tilting her face back to kiss his lips.

"I love you, Seth. I am so glad you came home."

"Me too, Jess."

Nestling her face into his neck, they stayed like that for a long time, until Seth's stomach began to growl in protest of skipping their meal the evening before.

It no longer mattered what time it was or what day it was, they had survived together. Walking down to the kitchen to eat, holding hands, they made quiet plans for the day. There would be little talking or activity today, but they would spend the day together.

That was all that mattered.