#Story-mentor: Marrying the Army

I married an army man when I was 26, four decades later; I am lying in a hospital bed with him by my side.

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Traditionally army men marry daughters of other military folk. It is simpler that ways, the girls have seen their mothers waiting for their husbands to return from the battlefield and the men don’t need to explain their unavoidable absence from home in every other letter.

I grew up far away from battlefields and the military. My parents were professors and an academic lifestyle was all that I knew. Till the day I met my man in uniform. It was a fairy tale romance, he swept me off my feet with his chivalry, his strength and gentleness and I knew there was no other man for me.

It wasn’t a match made in heaven, my family and friends warned me. Spots and stripes don’t gel well; we came from polar opposite worlds. My parents advised me against marrying a military man. They made me meet and speak to other women who had married into martial families. ‘Your husband will never be home’, they said, ‘you will every day wonder if today you will become a widow’.

Everyone tried their best to frighten me into submission. But the heart wants, what the heart needs.

As the years passed, the prophesies turned out to be true. The sleepless nights, the lonely days, weeks, months; I wasn’t cut out for this life. Seeing the iron maidens around me, didn’t make it any easier. The steely resolve of the army wives was something I admired, yet never could emulate.

The perennial waiting was bad, but nought in comparison to the scars. Not the battle wounds on his body, the lifelong damage it did to his psyche. What he went through, he never told me. He was strong, never showed any weakness. He was self-sufficient. He could command and care for a thousand men, he didn’t ‘need’ a doting wife to look after him.

Even as his soul mate, I felt a sense of aloofness, maybe not. But a disconnect of his reality and mine. He never confided in me, he didn’t want to burden me with his problems. Little did he realise that not knowing was even worse for me.

I knew he loved me and he had always been faithful to me. The warm hearted teddy bear I had married was replaced by a man who had ice running through his veins. I longed for a hug, a gentle kiss, the touch of familiarity. It wasn’t there. It drove me crazy. In time I accepted him as is. Enjoying his love without waiting for him to need me.

Today, 40 years later, I lie awake on the hospital bed with him sitting by my side. Two weeks back I had been diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctors said that I don’t have a lot of time now. I look at my man, having lived a happy life together. He might be touching 70, but he still sat ramrod straight on the chair beside me. I held his hand and told him that he was strong and he will do fine without me and that I could leave this world in peace.

The man I knew suddenly wasn’t. He knelt beside me, holding my hand and weeping like an inconsolable child. Between sobs he says, “I need you. You are my strength”.

It was the best moment of my marriage. I had never been this happy as I saw the man I loved. I will beat this cancer; I will be there for him…

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This story was written in response to @michelle.gent's second task in the #story-mentor group. A cliff hanger of a story from the first task can be read here. You can find a lot of interesting stories in the group by clicking the hash tag.