November 13th

Yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of the death of S's friend, Sean. It is amazing how many emotions can be wrapped up in one thing. Guilt, sadness, fear, anger, and on and on.

The feelings he has about all of this are not something S can share with me. He had to go tell Sean's wife. He still carries that guilt. He hated it. The fact that he could never be a comfort to her as someone who was friends with Sean, because he would always be the face at the door. Not just that he had to tell her, but the whole story behind the lead up to the deployment as well. That day, after he told her, when he came home, he left right away. He went to talk to some other friends. He stayed there the whole evening. It was like he could not look at me. It was a comfort to them, that he was there--their husbands were still deployed, and they were scared and sad. But, I still felt left out--and guilty. The guilt is still the biggest thing.

S. still can't include me in this part of himself. Even at church--on Memorial Day and the Sunday closest to the anniversary of Sean's death, he won't hold my hand, and he pulls away when I try to hold his. I guess I'm not much of a comfort. The fact that I exist, the kids exist, he still exists--it all creates a lot of guilt. I don't know if it would have been different if the command slate hadn't changed. Or if S didn't have to go tell her. All I know is that we both still feel terribly guilty, and we can't help each other with it. We don't even discuss it.

S. has his own little "ritual" that he does to honor Sean on the 13th of November every year. He doesn't include me in it. He waits until I go to bed. It is no big elaborate thing. But, it reminds me of the lyrics in a country song:

"he remembers the fallen,
as he orders a tall one--
and swallows it down with his tears."

November 13th of every year--A Guinness For Sean: