Solider Perspective: Relief Day

Coming home may seem happy and all, but what follows with certain sounds and movements may differ.

Home at last

As I walk up to the door of my family home, the wood porch creaks; the memories suddenly come back to me. I hold my tears in. As I open the door I see my mom cooking, I quietly put down my stuff…

“DAN!” my mother shouts. She dropped everything she was doing as she ran towards me with tears running down her face. I stood there frozen, I didn’t want to cry, I just wanted to comfort my mother, as I did.

As I settled in my mother was cooking up a feast: mash potatoes, pork belly, all her classics that she knows I like. Oh the deja vu. But all the sudden, the sounds of the pans banging together brought back severe memories. I had to excuse myself and go to the washroom. Panic rushed into me, I thought of my dear friend August who died from a bomb attack, that exact same sound my mother made, I know she didn’t intentionally mean it, but it triggered me. I felt: numb. However, I must paint a happy face, I shouldn't make my mother stressed or worried, it isn’t manly.

Mother and I settled down to eat. “Where is dad?” I asked. My mother dropped her fork and held back tears. I knew something bad happened...

“Papa had a stroke.” Mother said trembling.

My face went pale, blood rushed through me. I can’t contain myself, but as a man shall not prevail. I just asked mother one thing, and one thing only.

“Did you bury him?” I asked.

“Yes, he is now at rest.” Mother said.