So Many Agoes

Chapter 25

Late May 1971

Snow and ice melted, flowers started blooming and the end of the school year came and went like a rocket ship. Emilienne and I managed to finish the school year with staggeringly good grades, and we excitedly sent the news home that we had not only survived another year of school, but made it through the first five months of parenthood.

I attended the car show that Emilienne surprised me with and had all too much fun. I was like a child in a candy shop, excitedly looking at every car, and talking to all the owners. Emilienne had walked behind me with Denise, admiring the cars for longer than I had in my excited stupor.

We also attended Mardi Gras in February, and a wonderful experience it was. Emilienne proudly showed me the house where she grew up, took me to her favorite restaurants, and introduced me to her childhood friends. It was amazing to see such a different culture, it was unlike anything my sheltered eyes had ever experienced.

The houses rose proudly, with large columns and balconies that wrapped all the way around, wind chimes and bottles often hung from the railing clinking in the wind. Huge old willow trees lined the streets, and their gnarled branches were often perfect places to sit and take refuge from the sticky, humid southern heat.

I will never forget meeting Emilienne's grandmother, who greeted me by grabbing my face on either sides with her two strong hands and pulled me in to kiss my cheek with so much force that I almost toppled over. During our visit with her, neither one of us got a chance to hold Denise, as she was cuddled up in her great-grandmother's arms the entire time.

It was a time of learning, adjusting and peace. It was a rollercoaster of happiness, depression, accountability and communication.

Emilienne and I were walking through campus on the last day of classes with not-so-little Denise in a stroller. The birds were chirping so loudly it was almost deafening, and there was a cool breeze that combated the scorching sun that hung menacingly overhead. We stopped at a nearby deli for some delicious cold cut sandwiches for lunch before heading home.

We could hear our phone ringing off the hook from the sidewalk window as we walked to the entrance of the building. After making swift eye contact, we dashed into the apartment as quickly as two people can with a baby stroller, two pastrami sandwiches, a baby bag and two large school book bags could. As Emilienne dragged our things into the apartment, and got Denise and our things settled and in order, I answered the phone,

"Hello?"

"Hi, James? It's mom"

"Hey mom, how's it going?"

"Hey, honey I have news,"

I glanced over at Emilienne who was pulling out plates for us to eat our sandwiches off of. She looked at me curiously before coming over to the phone to rest her ear on the other side to listen in on the conversation,

"What happened?"

"Thomas was found, yesterday. He's injured badly, they took him to a hospital in D.C, which is where I am now,"

"Do you know how he's doing or what happened?"

"His gas mask failed when they deployed napalm into the jungle, he inhaled quite a bit of it and was blindly separated from his battalion. He fell into a Punjabi trap about two miles from where the incident took place. A Vietnamese local took him to a nearby village and they kept him fed until he was found"

The mountain of information hit me like a sledgehammer. I will never forget Emilienne's hand reaching out and wrapping around my wrist tightly for silent support as my mother continued,

"He's in his second emergency surgery, your dad and I just got here after driving all night so as far as his condition, I'm not sure yet."

I finished catching up with my mother and then solemnly hung up. Emilienne and I sat on the bed together as we attempted to catch our racing thoughts. Her hand ran over my back in a slow, soothing manner to keep me mentally grounded.

I ended up ranting about the ridiculousness of the war in the first place; American troops should have never been involved. The US, always sticking their noses in other country's business, but never aware enough to fix its own issues. I remember saying to Emilienne,

"It's like the only thing they care about is frightening everyone; other countries, their citizens, they don't care about us as a whole, they just care about looking powerful."

I didn't realize how correct I was at the time, but as the years passed and I thought back on that moment more than once, I realized just how much the US cares more about how it appears than how it actually treats its citizens. What's even more jarring is that my grandchildren are fighting this fight today, almost 60 years later.

Emilienne and I impatiently waited two weeks before packing up and heading to Milcreek. Thomas made it out of the surgeries and was sent to a hospital closer to home for recovery. Emilienne and I all but stared at the phone waiting for it to ring with an update.

With all that time on our hands we were already fully packed, with only our toiletries still out for every day use. Emilienne would go to nearby restaurants for daily food, while I stayed at home with Denise, still burning a hole through the phone with my eyes.

That phone call came eventually, and as soon as my mother spoke, Emilienne and I were pulling on jackets, turning out lights and grabbing the last of the bags that needed to go with us, the majority already in the car. We all but ran to my car, squeezing most of our belongings and a baby into the backseat.

We managed to make it to Milcreek before midnight that night and we clamored up the steps of my parent's house, exhausted and still beyond anxious. The both of us collapsed into the guest bed that night, prepared to sleep for hours, but sleep never came.

The two of us watched the sun rise from the window that faced the old cherry tree. I wasn't able to eat much breakfast that morning, Emilienne didn't have a choice as she was still breast feeding, but her bites were few and far in between.

Finally the time came for the five of us to head to the hospital. Emilienne's mother was kind enough to babysit Denise for the time being so we could focus all of our attention on Thomas. When we arrived, Thomas was near the nurse's station, waiting for us.

His face was covered in burn scars from the Napalm that touched his skin and when he spoke his voice was strained and hoarse from inhaling the deadly chemical; But the most jarring thing about him had to be the wheelchair.

Emilienne and I both knew he was paralyzed from the waist down, but seeing it in person was heart wrenching. His attitude seemed to be in tact, however, because the second his eyes met mine, a boyish grin broke out on his face. I bent down to hug him and he tightly pulled me in, the once boyish body that I grew up with now muscular and adult, which was a shock to me.

We spent the remainder of the visit catching up, Thomas ended up being angry with us that we didn't bring Denise; he made us promise to bring her next time so he could meet his niece. Overall, he seemed unfazed by the state his body was in; perhaps it was denial, or maybe it was relief that he would be home for good, no longer obligated to put his life on the line for a war he didn't agree with.

We all knew adjusting would be a struggle, the inevitable life changes that would have to be made for everyone being left unaddressed and to hang above our heads like dark clouds. It would be difficult, but once again, support was the thing keeping us all sane. We'd get through it as a family, one way or another.