By: Blossom M. Thao (Emmaline Shay)
The air is fresh, full of laughter, and glee, overwhelmed with the sweet aroma of bar-b-que cooking on a hot grill. Grandchildren are frolicking on the soft green lawn, surrounded by gigantic oak trees, perfect for climbing. Zooming left and right the grandchildren are at play, bathing in the delicious warmth of spring, like bumblebees softly caressing one flower to the next. It is a perfect day, spring hatching forth from a seed having been trapped in a dark damp winter. The grandchildren can not get enough of the sun, the fresh air, the perfection of spring.
Their obvious joy sends a beaming smile to my face. I am 72 years old. My body was once soft and young. Now my body is stiff, frail, and aged, weathered down by long years of a full life. However my smile has not changed. It is still the same as it were 50 years ago.
From across the freshly cut yard, two forest green eyes watch me intently as I rock back and forth on the porch. I can still see the love sincerely radiating from them like bright lights. It is the same as it were 50 years ago. He studies me, searching my chocolate orbs for returned feelings. I give him my best smile, covering the despair I’ve felt for the last 50 years. His emerald eyes burn a hole through my skull. Every time I see them, all I can imagine are sapphires staring back at me. To me his face isn’t there. It’s someone else’s. When he holds me in his arms, I feel incomplete, longing for something else. I long for what’s been lost, what can not be revived, what was once the reason for my very-being.
I was a mere 17 when I fell in love with Richard Nicholson. I can still remember every detail of his face, his frame, everything about him, as if he is the one who holds me to sleep every night, not my husband, Victor Maddox. Victor wasn’t the man I wanted. He didn’t have the blue eyes I could drown in, or the arms that held me snugly, or the body that fit mine perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.
Somerville College is where it all began. Edward Shay was my only sibling, my younger brother of less than one year. He, Victor, and Richard had all been students at Somerville College. They were inseparable, the three musketeers. Where ever one went was another. It was never truer. When World War 1 broke out in 1914, its fury shaking the entire world, the three musketeers all joined the British army.
I could not have been more helpless. Victor was my best-friend. He was always there for me when Richard wasn’t able to, and that is still true today. He’s always been there, and he still is. I wish he weren’t. Every time I look at him, I feel guilty for not being able to love him as much as he loves me. Victor deserved more, deserved better.
Edward and I were closer than most siblings because we were raised by strict religious parents, Thomas and Edith Shay. We shared laughter, anger, and everything that siblings go through. Whenever one sibling was into trouble, sure enough was the other, someway, somehow.
Edward will never be forgotten, for as long as my heart is still beating. Every day that I live, I am haunted by guilt, stabbed by a blade of hot sharp pain. I have been able to grow old, experiencing life and adulthood, from soft skin to rough wrinkles. Edward was only a child when he became a soldier. He was only a child when he died, although I must say that when his limp cold body was returned, Edward looked twice his age of 16. His body had been covered in a layer of grime and dried blood. I hadn’t been able to believe that it was him. My parents had not either, who, I remember, had sobbed in despair at the train station. I had hoped that it was not he, that it was a mistake, and that it was some other man of war who had been blown in half. However the paw shaped birthmark above his heart had crumbled my hope. It had been him, Edward Shay, my younger brother, my only sibling.
Edward was my brother, we shared a love that only siblings knew of, but Richard Nicolson and I shared something else. It was a love that only lovers share, a feeling not meant for more than one person. Richard was that one person for me. We loved each other from the start, from the moment sapphire and chocolate met. Even now, I can still hear the whisper of my name from his soft, kissable lips. Em, he would call me. It was a nickname, derived from my full name of Emmaline, reserved only for him. Richard and I had begun a sort of relationship while he was a student at Somerville, and I was a student at New Castle. It had been innocent and pure. We were two kids just falling into the world of love. However I knew it was more than that. Our love for each other ran deep, mixing in with our souls. We were each other’s halves.
When Richard went off to war, he took half of me with him. I was incomplete, as well as our relationship, which was an unfinished painting. I wish god, the artist would have added the final brush stroke, added the final touch that would bring it all together, but he did not. He left us there like many others. We were destined to never be together, even if we hadn’t known it. War was something that could not be overcome without losing. October 14th 1918, I got a telegraph. I had hoped that it was confirmation that Richard was coming home for Christmas. We’d sent letters back and forth, talking about our thoughts about the war, what it was like, and our relationship. We had hoped to get married on Christmas day. We’d already been engaged before Richard left for war. He’d said he’d wanted me as his and his only. I had no opposition against it. I only wanted to be his. I had always wanted to be his. I had quickly rushed over the telegraph, happiness blinding me as I read it. I hadn’t realized that it wasn’t what I was hoping for, until I saw the word DEATH in big bold letters. I remember reading over the message again, and again, not believing it. Richard had been shot clear through the stomach by a sniper as he went to check on the barb wire fences. I had been so angry, so sad, and hurt at the same time. I had been so confused and sick at heart. I remember lying in bed for 3 straight months. Even after I had left the confinements of my room, and the comfort of my sheets, I had not recovered from the loss of Richard. I still haven’t. Like I said, Richard and I were more than just young teenagers in kiddish love. Richard Nicolson’s funeral was also Emmaline Suzanne Shay’s. When they closed the casket and buried him in the damp earth, they buried me with him also. I knew I would never be the same.
The kit they had sent back home had been badly abused by the circumstances of war. I had wondered why they had even given them back. All they would do was remind of what I had lost, and would never have. The kit had Richard’s Khaki vest, which was ripped right through the torso, no doubt where the bullet had penetrated. Dry blood had colored all the trinkets as if red were the natural color. Richard’s mother, Martha Nicholson, and his sister, Elizabeth, had been a teary heap. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was cry with them. Then in the left pocket, I found a note that was addressed to me. He’d wanted me to read and let his parents, and his sister know that he was happy to be dead because he would now be away from war which had been living hell. He told them not to worry, be happy because he was happy. Here is what the dirty colored paper had said.
Dear mother, father, Elizabeth, and….Emmaline,
First off let me begin with this. Right now I am on the western front, and as I write this letter I know that I will not make it home. Grenades are bursting down like rain. Body parts cover the ground like grass. Guns boom like fireworks in my ears. The ground shakes from under my feet. Tanks scatter the war zone like trees. Violence is everywhere. My nostrils are flaring. My lungs are filled with the heavy stench of diseased air. I sit here in a rat infested trench, trying my hardest not to step on the masses of bodies piled on the trench floor. My mouth is dry. It is as if I am trapped without food without water in a hot, burning desert. However in reality I am not. Here in Germany, it is so cold that I feel as if a dark icy demon has possessed me, crawling into my skin and wrapping around my insides, planting its seeds so that I may never feel warmth again. My body is not my body. I can not feel my toes or my fingers. I can barely grip this pen, or stay in one spot long enough to write a full sentence. I am afraid that if I stay still for too long, I may freeze to death. I don’t want anyone of you to feel despair. Just be happy for me like I am for myself. I know that I am going to die here, and I have accepted it. I have been invited to leave this horrid place. I will never have to dodge bombs or flying limbs again. I will never have to see the color red, or be intoxicated by air that is not meant for being taken into the lungs. I will not be cold anymore. I am not saying that I want to die, but I really have no other choice. However if I did have a choice you all know that I would have run back home into the comfort and warmth that I once knew. It’s just not the same anymore. I didn’t know that when I went to war that war would be like this. I never expected men todie by the thousands in a minute. I was foolish enough to think that war was a glorious honor. I thought I would gain prestige and become a hero if I joined the army. However I am not a hero. I am not prestigious. I am just another man who will die with the thousands in a minute. My honor is not about being a soldier. It’s about dying for a cause. They say that we are fighting for peace. We are not fighting for peace. We are really dying for peace. Actually, Now I am not really sure what our cause is. It’s been months since we’ve had news about the war. It is funny because I am here, actually in the war, fighting and yet I have no idea what is going on. I just know how to fight and fight and fight, until I’ve been told to stop. It’s been years since the war broke out. Sooner or later in one minute or the next, I am going to take my last breath.
Dad. I really am your son. I got my stubbornness from you. No one has ever been able to deny you, or myself. You were against me going to war with every fiber in your body, but like I said I’m stubborn. I could never take no for an answer so I did it. I joined the army, and you were so mad at me, you made sure not to say to words to me when I left. I always thought that it was because you did not get your way, but I know now that it was because you didn’t want me to witness the horror called war. You did not want me to go face to face with the grim reaper. I didn’t know that that’s who war was. If I had known I would have clung to you like I was still a child, and not have walked straight into the arms of death. Dad, do you remember the fishing trips we would always take when I was younger? We always loved fishing, and it was the thing that held us together. When I got older, we drifted apart because I started liking different things. Well now, I think we have something in common again. We both hate war. I don’t think you were ever mad at me. You were just mad because war was going to take me away from you. I’m sorry dad. I couldn’t give you grandchildren to fish with, or anything else at all for that matter. I just hope you know that I love you. Always will because you are my dad.
Mom. You raised me well. You made sure I took my baths. You made sure I had clothing, and made sure that I had food to eat. You made sure that I was alive. I thank you mom for everything you’ve done for me. I’m thankful that you are my mom because I don’t think anyone is as great as a mom as you. That is why I hurt, mom. I could not give back anything in return. You raised me so well, making sure I grew up strong, and I just wasted all your effort by digging my own grave. I had a choice. I decided to come to war. My choice has hurt us all, especially you mom. That was not my intention, and I am sorry I wasted your time and energy. I hope that if there is another life after this that you will be my mother again. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you mom. I’ll always be your little Richy.
Elizabeth, my darling sister, you are a fine young woman. I am sure that during the years that I have been gone, you’ve blossomed into a beautiful rose. I’ve no doubt you are still soft and kind also. You always were the sweet one. However I must say that if any man comes near you, you had better give him the hardest whack you have or I am going to come back and haunt him myself. Eliza, you’ll always be my baby sister. I hope that you’ll always remember me as your big brother. I know that I was your only sibling, and now that I am gone you will be brother-less. However be not afraid my darling. Big brother will always be there by your side. I love you always, Ricky.
Oh…Emmaline. It has been ages since we’ve last seen each other. I must say that I do not believe that we’ll actually ever see each other again. Believe this though; you are the only one for me. You always have been. When I die, I die happy. I die knowing that I found my soul-mate. Sweetheart, don’t spend your time hurting over somebody like me. It was my own stupid mistake that lost someone as precious as you. I should never have gone to war. We should have just gotten married like we planned…I…I’m sorry…What I mean is that I want you to move on. Like I said you are my soul-mate, but you know what? I do not think that I am your soul-mate. Do you understand? You have to find somebody else. Your soul-mate is still out there. I’ve found mine. I’m going to die knowing that it was you. You’re going to live a long life with your true love. You’ll have kids and grand-kids, and great grand-kids. Don’t waste your time mulling over me, when you should be looking for your other half, your partner in life, your soul-mate. Emmaline Lilac Shay I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you always, even when you find your soul mate. Just be happy darling. Be happy for being able to be happy. Don’t screw it up like me, okay? Find that lucky man, and make sure that you don’t lose him because in life you only have one soul-mate. Okay? Promise me this to me Em. You have to. It’s what’s best… Em, you’ll always be mine, even if I can never be with you. I have so much more to say because there is so much unsaid between us. However I would never be able to write it all down, even if I had been given every second of this time at war to have written to you. The most important thing to say then is that I LOVE YOU. Never forget that. Emmaline Shay & Richard Nicholson forever.
Goodbye everyone. Mom, Dad, Eliza, and Emmaline I am thankful to have had loved ones like you all in my life. I Richard Nicholson will never forget the days we spent together, and the memories that we shared. I love you all. Goodbye…I will miss you always…
Richard.
Did Richard really think that I could forget about him, and did he really think that he was not my soul mate? I mean I was young, but I knew that true love was different from a little school-girl crush. I could never forget him. From the moment sapphire and chocolate had met from across Somerville campus, I knew that he was my soul mate. However I wanted to make that promise to him no matter, how much it hurt to not be able to be him. Victor came home from war. He was the only one out of the three musketeers to survive. When the war had been confirmed over by the Treaty of Versailles he had been in the infirmary. He had been hit my mustard gas, but he had been fine, only suffering temporary blindness. He stayed in the infirmary for most of the 6 months of the last year of World War 1. Victor was sent home. His eyes were still wrapped, and he was still blind. I took care of him for about a month, until finally he had gotten better. He was my best-friend. He was always there for me. I would be there for him. December 12, 1918 was the day his bandages were taken off. His parents and I all stood there in the white washed hospital room, praying to god that he was fine. I loved Victor…as my best-friend. He was all I had left, after the death of Edward and Richard. I still remember the flicker in Victor’s eyes as he adjusted to being able to see things again, and seeing me for the first time in 4 years. I knew that I had grown into a woman.
“Emmaline?” He’d asked.
“Yes, Victor.” I’d replied. That was the point of no return. Victor wanted me for his own since I’d met Richard. He was just never able to have me. I knew that Victor had always felt that way, even though I hadn’t. I believe that every person has one soul-mate. I was Richard’s. He was mine, and I was victor’s. A couple weeks later, Victor proposed. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to go against Richard. He’d said that each person has a soul-mate. Victor was alive. He was well. He needed a soul-mate. I needed someone to take Richard’s place. We got married the next summer. The wedding had been beautiful, set in a vineyard. Everyone had said I was gorgeous, but I had felt like dirt. I felt like I was being suffocated by the dirt that surrounded half of me and Richard’s decomposing body. I was never going to be ok again. I would end up broken on the inside, and I was, I still am as I sit here rocking on the porch of mine and Victor’s home.
War and peace. You can not have one without the other because you aren’t fighting for peace, you are dying for it.
No comments:
Post a Comment