By the Grace of God: Chapter 13

There is love all around me. I’m not imagining things, am I?

“Debbie, Reg wants me to tell you suicide entered his thoughts at Walter Reed back in sixty-eight and never strayed far for the rest of his life. If the two of you married and had a family together, chances are his suicide was inevitable. After what he lived through in ‘Nam, taking his own life was an inescapable outcome for him. He tried several times before he met you, but never had the guts to finish the job. You gave Reg a respite from that pain, but he doesn’t want you to suffer any guilt over his death. He made every decision and choice, directed every action, that led up to that day.”

Chappy showed me the kitchen in his house back in Everett. The room was hazy, but the avocado green formica kitchen table and chair set stood in full focus.

What’s that, Chappy? Did she get what?

He rolled his eyes at me and sighed, his inner drama queen shining through.

There was a package on the kitchen table with her name on it. It was for her eyes only. I hope it made its way to her.

“Debbie, Reg is asking if you got what he left on the kitchen table for you? At his house in Everett back in seventy-four. He is showing me the green kitchen table and a Macy’s box with your name on it in the middle of it.”

There was a pause. Paper shuffled around on the table, a box opened, accompanied by a stifled cry and a muffled exclamation.

“It’s been so long since I looked at this.” A shuddering breath preceded her telling me of her gift from the grave. “Yes, I got it. He put together a scrapbook for me. It outlined his service in Vietnam and his life after his discharge. The story of how we met, pictures and dreams of what he wanted for us in a storybook. I found it when I went to call the police. It was my undoing. I was incoherent when the operator answered the call, but I told them where I was. I sat in the living room with Reg. We looked at the scrapbook together because I didn’t want him to be alone any longer. I pretended we were looking at it together. To sit there with his body, seeing what he did to himself, was so difficult, but walking away and leaving him by himself was unimaginable.”

Spirit was showing me Debbie sitting at her kitchen table, photos still strewn around the table top. On top of the photos sat the scrapbook she mentioned, open to a page with drawings, like a comic book, depicting their first meeting. From Reg getting his coffee to bumping into her to them talking for over an hour and how they both felt afterwards outlined in technicolour. Chappy watched over my shoulder, lost in his own memories of that fateful summer.

I put that book together after she left. It was a dark period in my life and I hoped putting that together would help me heal. It didn’t, my pain intensified as I worked on it. After Vietnam, my relationship with Debbie gave me purpose and helped me enjoy being alive again. The light left my life when she boarded that plane. I was angry at the world, at the Marines, at the goddamn gooks, at everyone for what happened to me. I figured she wouldn’t have left if I wasn’t a cripple.

It hurt my heart when he said that, but it was true. Too many people chose not to cope with disabilities in their lives, it was too difficult for them. I wondered if Debbie was one of them.

“Debbie, Reg says he did that scrapbook up as therapy after you left. He sunk into a depression intensified by the nagging thought you might have stayed if his leg had been intact.”

Silence on the other end of the phone confirmed Chappy’s fears. Guilt and regret hung in the air, tangible things that have followed Debbie around for the last forty years.

“I wish he was wrong, but I don’t think he is. Even though Reg never let his disability stop him from living his life, things were different for us because he lost his leg. I’m not sure I would have doubted my feelings for him as much if he had been able-bodied and I may have ignored other people and their opinions easier. Everyone back home told me not to limit my own possibilities by committing myself to a cripple, but they didn’t see Reg for who he was. They only saw his disability.

Everyone back in Chicago, my family or friends, put down my relationship with Reg, telling me how he was too much for me to take on. They told me he shouldn’t expect me to give up my life to take care of him. They droned on telling me I needed to put my needs first and how I didn’t want to spend a lifetime as his therapist or caregiver. That I would never be his wife or lover, just his nursemaid, tied down to some cripple for the rest of my life. They didn’t understand that he was not a cripple, his disability did not define him. He defined his disability and, in his eyes, he didn’t have one. Not in my eyes, either. Not until I went home for Christmas in seventy-three and talked about him and our future together to my family. They were the ones who convinced me I didn’t have a future with Reg. I wish I’d never listened to them.”

Chappy turned to me with a question in his eyes.

I wonder if she found the letter I wrote her? Ask her.

I asked her. His eyebrows knotted together, concern clouding his eyes when her answer to my question was ‘what letter.’

She needs to pry up the glue on the inside back cover. I hid it because I didn’t want her to read it, but I needed to give it to her. It tore my heart out to write it, but I think she needs the message in it now.

I looked at Chappy and saw the anguish masked by relief in his eyes.

I will. You need her to read it now, don’t you?

Chappy nodded. It was time to give his love the peace of mind she craved.

“Debbie, I want you to turn to the back of the scrapbook. There should be one corner of the inner cover bent over, right?”

“Yes, it is there. It’s been like that forever.”

“Good, peel that back. The glue may stick a little, but it is only on the outer edge. You will find a square envelope with your name on it, the last thing Reg wrote in this lifetime. His last breath, his final thoughts, were of you.”

Her crying mixed with the sound of the flap ripping as she pulled it back to reveal the envelope. A sob caught in Debbie’s throat as she saw her name, in her lost love’s handwriting, and what would be his final message to her.

I was crying just as hard as she was.

“I’m not sure I can read this, Sarah.”

“You can, Debbie. And you will. It is time for you to find out his feelings and thoughts in his words. You need this closure. You need to find peace and comfort in his death. It is time.”

The envelope let out a sigh of relief as the flap ripped and the years of holding its secrets fell away, releasing them to the Universe. Paper rustled as she pulled the letter out of the envelope. A sharp intake of breath, the release of a small cry, then silence as she read the words awaiting her.

I don’t think she ever knew that her Mom called me, about two weeks after she left. We talked for a long time, Ruby and I. She told me to leave Debbie alone. Ruby said Debbie had been a mess when I called her a few days after she left. Her words were ‘Debbie doesn’t need to deal with a cripple like you.’ Her Mom, Ruby, said that Debbie needed someone to take care of her, not someone for her to take care of. I’m not sure if her mom is still alive or not, she could be, but Debbie still needs to hear it. I hope her mom has passed. It wouldn’t be fair to cause a rift between them now, towards the end of her mother’s life.

Chappy’s concern for Debbie’s relationship with her mother spoke volumes about his character and love for the woman on the other end of the phone. She was still his only concern.

Many veterans proved themselves to be selfless individuals who sacrificed for their country but didn’t always receive the accolades or acknowledgement they deserved. I only hoped I could give them that through the project spirit brought me. I hoped to do their stories justice and give them the recognition they deserved.

“Debbie, are you okay?” The deafening silence on the other end of the line had me worrying she had hung up.

“Yes, I’m here. Not sure if I’m okay or not, but I’m here. I can’t believe my Mom would call him like that, but I guess it doesn’t surprise me. She interfered in my life a fair bit, telling me she worried about me and only wanted the best for me. I let her do what she wanted because it made my life easier, but knowing she called Reg would have pushed me back to him like nothing else could. She was wrong with him and I. I wish I could tell her that. Reg was what was best for me. She ruined my life by coming between us.”

Pages of the scrapbook whispered as she leafed through it once more. Small hiccoughs and gasps told me her emotions were still close to the surface. Beside her, one hand on her shoulder, was her mother. I could see her trying to give her daughter some comfort as she understood how things unfolded all those years before.

I guess you don’t have to worry you might ruin their relationship, Chappy.

His eyes red with grief, he turned back to look at Debbie as I spoke to her mother, unable to let this go.

Ruby? You caused a lot of trouble back then. You should have minded your own business and let your daughter have the life she wanted.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked at me.

I did, you’re right. I regretted interfering with her relationship with Reg, but I had to do it. She would have been miserable with him.

Well, so long as you helped her find happiness. I mean, it’s not as if she hasn’t been miserable every day since, right?

Debbie’s mother reeled back, head held high in defiance, and straightened her shoulders. I didn’t care if I hurt her. She ruined three lives the day she interfered with Debbie and Reg’s relationship. It was up to me to save two of those lives from being ruined further.

I did everything I could to protect her.

But it didn’t work, Ruby. You didn’t protect her, you kept her from her happiness. You were the cause of her unhappiness, not her saviour from it.

What if Reg had done away with himself years later? He could have left her on her own, with kids to raise and bills to pay.

What if he did? What if he didn’t? It was her choice to make, not yours. It was her life to live, not yours. Instead of trusting her to know what was best for her, you allowed your daughter to live a life dragged down by guilt and regret.

My words sounded cruel, even to my ears, but she needed to hear them. As they say, the truth hurts and Ruby was hurting.

Ruby’s defiant gaze wilted and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Head bowed, she nodded and looked back at me. She hugged her daughter and told me I was right. Debbie smiled as her mother hugged her, not knowing what the source of her comfort was, just that her spirits lifted.

“Sarah, Reg is there with you, isn’t he? There is love all around me. I’m not imagining things, am I?”

A giggle escaped me as I glanced at Chappy.

So, is she imagining things? Am I?

I winked and told her the truth.

Continue reading with By the Grace of God: Chapter 14 here:

To start at the beginning, see By the Grace of God: Chapter 1 here: