THREE KISSES
Maria stood quietly, the warm July breeze gently tossing her blond hair. She patiently waited for the transport aircraft to taxi in. For the past hour she had watched the dignitaries arrive. She had been given the place of honour in his ceremony; a place not asked or dreamt of, filled with sorrow and pain. Maria clutches his picture to her chest, the one her Robert always joked about and called the death photo. All soldiers know this picture, it is the one the army takes before you deploy, and the one that is released to the media and placed on your casket.
The plane arrives and the ceremony begins, she can hear the cameras clicking in the back ground as the flag draped steel casket of her fallen love returns. In the distance a piper plays a Pipers Lament for her fallen man. Maria stiffens her chin as she watches all that was her life, pass by on the shoulders of his brothers in arms. They carry him ever so gently, pride in their solemn duty clearly visible on their faces. Their sorrow flows freely with their tears. His body is broken, Roberts’s duty done, a sacrifice paid in blood.
She follows in behind her husband, as they carry him to the waiting hearse. Gently they place him down as though they held the world’s most precious treasure.
Maria took her seat in the motorcade; she was accompanied by her mother, doing her best to console her child in this painful time of grief. Maria's head hung low she closes her eyes, her mind drifts back to the day her world left. Her thoughts drift back to that final kiss goodbye, that one simple act that encompasses so much. In that kiss is all that is good and right, in that kiss is all that would sustain her fallen knight through the troubles he would face. In that motion of the joining of two lips it holds all the unspoken truths. It was not supposed to be this way. That final moment between husband and wife, a single kiss filled with all the love she had to give, a token of affection that would sustain Robert through his lonely days in hell. Maria Had tried to be strong for her husband, but she could not shake the feeling that he was marching to his death.
The motorcade made its way down the high way, the Highway of Hero's they called it. She waved at the crowds of people they passed along the way. It brought a slight smile to her lips; Robert would be so embarrassed with all the fuss. So many people had come, and so many flags waving. They were on there way to Toronto, to the Center of Forensic Sciences and from there they would travel home.
The funeral parlor had quieted down; it was just the two of them. The silence was heavy even though faint music played in the back ground. Now that it was quiet and she had time to look back over the last couple of days, she had just realized how alone she was. She was sure the heaviness in her heart would remain for all eternity, and that the pain she felt would never lift. Before he had left they did everything together. They lived to be with each other and counted the days until he returned home. Now he had gone again and this time he would wait for her. She stood close to his casket; Maria looked at her husband for the last time, tears streaming down her face. She bent close and placed a kiss upon his lips. She whispered “I love you” as her tears fall upon his face. Still even now he dries her tears. She wanted so much to be in his arms, to feel his strength and warmth. Maria wanted to say all the silly things they used to say and do the things that made him laugh. The dream they had lived was over to soon, ended by a knock at the door. Their hopes and dreams gone like a whisper on the wind, slammed to the realm of impossibility by the heavy fist of fate.
Maria felt a hand gently touch her back. It was the attending officer that had been appointed by the army. He had a kind face. He was a young man, she guessed about her age may be twenty five. He simply leaned in and said that it was time. She nodded her head as a new stream of tears began to flow; Maria reached into the casket and straightened his collar and his pockets just as she did every time he left for training or deployment. She took a long look, for it would be the last time she would set eyes on her fallen hero. The lid of the casket was slowly closed. She could feel its weight upon her heart. With the closing of the casket so to would a piece of her heart be sealed away. She would make it a private place in her soul; never to be touched by mans mortal hands again. The memory of her love would be locked in that private place that all women have and only she would hold the key.
She sat quietly as the service began, many of Roberts friends were there. The home town armory was filled to capacity. She sat in the front as straight as she could, using her last reserves of strength. Maria’s mother sat beside her, gently caressing her arms listening to the words of the minister, but not really hearing them. It was her turn now to say a few words about her Robert that lay but a few feet away. But how could she say only a few words. There were so many things to say, so many things that she wanted people to know about her Robert. She wanted the whole world to feel her pain, to feel her sorrow, to know the loss that she felt. She wanted the world to know about his love of hockey and peanut butter sandwiches. She wanted them to know how his smile brightened her day while his care free attitude sometimes made her furious. She wanted them to understand what they had lost. She wanted to scream it with all the force her lungs would allow. She told them how she loved him and how they talked of the future, she wanted everyone there to know what they had planned, and how those plans would never come true. When the service was over Maria walked slowly behind her husbands casket as it was borne away by his comrades. Placed in the hearse, he was on his way to his final resting place.
Maria took her place in the procession, once again; she sat quietly steeling herself for the final farewell. In her hand she clutched a tattered envelope with her name written in black ink across the front. Maria new what this letter was, it was the death letter that soldiers write to there loved ones. She meant to read it before now, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She gently opened the paper envelope and pulled out a few sheets folded field message pad paper. She began to read.
Hello Sweetheart
If you are reading this letter, you will already know that only my body will be coming home. Know that I love you and always will, know that you are always in my heart. This is silly; I don’t really know what to write. Well I guess I could say that I'm not afraid of dying for my country, but I am afraid of dying for nothing. Know that I met the enemy bravely and that you were there with me every step of the way. I know that you will be sad and you will just want to curl up and wither away. But in time I want you to live and do the things that we talked about, be happy and enjoy your life. Live our dreams and bring me with you where ever you go. Live for us both, be my eyes and ears.
All too soon the words of her hero ended with the simple fraise “I love you” followed by XOXOXO.
Maria closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. She wanted to be strong for her love.
The slow moving vehicles made their way through the manicured lawns of the cemetery. Again the sun was shining, and again her soldier was carried by his brothers to his final eternal post.
Even though there were hundreds of people there, all was silent but the breeze. The Pipers played and Buglers blared and soldiers saluted.
Maria felt the lump in her throat grow, as they folded the red and white. The service was over and it was time to say goodbye. She mad her way to the side of her love, again the quiet fell upon her like a thunderous noise.
Maria kneeled on one knee, bowing to her fallen knight. His nation’s banner clutched to her wounded heart, she bows her head and places a kiss upon cold black steel. All that was, all that is and all that would have been, focused into a single act of devotion, given from the living to the lost. She lingers for a moment remembering a life not yet lived. Her tears falling freely now, her sorrow watering this hallowed ground.
With lingering touch and loving glance she turns away from her lover’s tomb. She begins her long labored march into the ranks of love left behind. Each step she takes made heavy by despair and loss, the feeling of abandonment and desertion take root as she walks alone to the waiting car. Each step harder then the last, she soldiers on.
