Still - h.s (au)

Chapter 27

Grace

October 1944

Martha was dead.

My mother was dead.

Andrew was dead.

And Harry was dead.

Yet here I was, hurt but alive.

These last years had been a blur in my head, I felt like I haven't lived them, but only merely survived. I spent most of the time in Africa, in the middle of the desert in Tunisia healing the wounded, not only our British soldiers but many others as well who risked their lives in this war. Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, and months turned to two and a half years. So many things had changed, especially myself.

After spending two years in Africa we had moved now to a field hospital in Italy. It was bittersweet returning to Europe, but at least it reminded me of home. While I was in Africa it was as if I was living on a different reality, but coming back here just told me how lonely I was.

We were standing right behind our soldiers and the other allies soldiers fight in the Italian campaign, on what they call the Gothic line offensive. This was considered to be one of the biggest battles in the history of the war, and as expected it was also a deadly one. It had begun during the last month, and there was no prevision to when it would end.

Not that I minded. As much as I loathed this war, it kept me occupied both physically but also mentally. While I was taking care of the wounded, I didn't remember how hurt I was, there was nothing going through my mind while I was working. I treated each patient as if they were my Harry, providing them with love and kindness, even though most of them ended up dying in my arms.

I haven't been the same since I discovered that my Harry was dead.

Dead in battle in a foreign country so far away from here. I couldn't even mourn for his body, he was buried somewhere in that far away place, where no one would ever visit him. After I found out that the love of my life was dead, I was unable to speak, eat, or sleep on the following days. It was such a shock to me that I refused to believe that my Harry was no longer alive, especially after he promised me we would reunite once this was over.

We had so many plans. Getting married, building our cute little house, having seven babies as he wanted, traveling the world together. But now, that was nothing but a distant and impossible dream. We would never reunite, we would never get married not would we build our house or travel the world together. Harry was never going to be the father of my children.

He had so many dreams and now he would never be able to fulfill them.

When Andrew died right at the beginning of the war, I was deeply devastated, but when Harry died, a part of me died with him. And I knew that would never be the same person ever again, no matter how hard I tried to move on with my life it was impossible to forget the pain of losing him. There was not a single day that I didn't remember him, and the moments we spent together.

Those moments are bittersweet because they make me both happy and sad at the same time. I am thankful to have so many good memories of him, and I will always cherish him dearly in my heart. But it also hurt because Harry was never coming back and we would not make any new memories together.

This world is so unfair.

If I could only go back... We would have run away together and none of us would fight in this bloody war. But then, that would never happen as well, we were too determined to do our part in this war.