Hidden Pain

Because I love my children, I can never tell them about why their mother killed herself. Maybe that’s just an excuse I use so I feel less guilty. I know I directly am not at fault for what happened, but I feel like if I hadn’t been drafted by the war, and ran to Canada instead of willingly going to fight, Catherine would still be around today, loving her two babies with every cell in her body.

            Of course we were young. It always seems to turn out that way, but its not like we planned for Vietnam to interfere with the family. Nixon fucked it all up. It’s his fault, not mine, not hers, but his. There was no reason for us to be there. We were losing men every day, every minute, on every battlefront. The casualty cost was too high. We weren’t even fighting for the right cause. We were being the  “world police” but we were effectively stopping nothing, just wasting resources and money.

            I was away for almost two years. How could I have known? She didn’t tell me she was pregnant. Maybe if she told me before I was over seas, I would have run to the Caribbean or gone to Canada. Once I was in the jungle, there wasn’t much I could do. I had to wait out my service time. I can say will all honesty, I was not going to shoot myself in the foot to get medically discharged. I was pulled to the war, for my country, the least I could do it withstand that hot, humid, rotten smelling hell. I just had to watch the ground for trip wires and keep my head down, helmet on at all times.

            I got the letter saying she was pregnant a month into my tour. She could have called. I know it would have been a hassle, but I would think that pregnancy was the type of thing you’d talk about, not write. We were going to have twins. I remember the moment I read that line. A smile broke across my face, followed by a feeling of terror in my gut. Would I get home to see them grow up? Would some gook get me before I made it home safely? Well, it turns out I had nothing to worry about. I got home after my tour, with no injuries, but kills under my belt.

            Katie and Jason are the two most beautiful children I have ever seen. They look just like their mother, full of energy and life. Radiating happiness with every movement. I was home for less than two weeks and I knew things were not ok. Jocelyn didn’t look at me the same, her eyes were hallow, shallow, blank. Our connection was gone. Our touches were empty. The passion has disappeared. I came home one day from the store, to find water leaking from under the bathroom door. Katie and Josh were asleep in their crib. Entering the bathroom, there she was, floating in a sea of red, wrists open, he life spilled out into the bathtub.

            I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell Katie and Josh the truth. I don’t even know why Catherine did what she did. Was it me? Was it the war? Was it the kids? If I told them, would my children hate me?