His eyes were wide and panicked, darting everywhere, never pausing until I cleared my throat and parted my lips to speak.
He focuses on me, his Sea-Foam blue eyes piercing me to my very soul.
For a brief moment, I was rendered speechless. My throat dry, the words clung to the tip of my tongue, unwilling to exit my mouth.
I felt my heart shatter and fall like shards of heavy, broken pottery to my stomach.
"I'm so sorry beloved, I know it's hard and I wish I could go with you", I gently cooed as I held his trembling hand in mine.
I could feel the tendons in the back of his scarred hands; flex-pause-release.
The tension in the air was palatable; the cacophony of voices continually diverting his attention.
"He's scanning again," I thought to myself, "this must be a bad episode."
His head remained stationary, but his eyes were never still.
I squeezed his hand and gently said his name, "David-"
His focus returns
"Where were you?", I inquire, looking deep into his eyes, willing him to stay present.
"I was over there again" he whispers, sadness sliding across his pained face.
His leg begins to bounce, the motion reverberating up his body shaking the table. I become acutely aware of the stickiness of it's surface, the pint glasses leaving a sweat rings.
He lets go of my hand and begins to toy with his glass, then raises it to his lips and takes a long drink.
His movements are slow, like molasses on a cold winter's day.
He sets the glass down, a 1/4 inch remaining in the bottom and looks at me with that smirk; trying to change the mood he says,
"For the Angels"
I look at him, concern gnawing at the edges of my mind.
I'm a "fixer", it's what I have done since I was very little and this is one of the few times that I couldn't fix it. I had to just stand by and bear witness, watch the flashbacks take the man I love and twist him into knots. All I wanted to do was make it all go away. I would shoulder this burden if it meant that his pain would dissipate.
Life with a disabled combat vet is ever changing, fraught with highs and lows. Hyper-vigilance, perceived threats when there are none, and when flashbacks hit, a disconnectedness that is hard to penetrate.
I always know where I stand with David, his fierce loyalty and need to always protect me and our children is a sense of security I had never felt until I met him.
#LoveAndie
Written 11/2018, Reformatted 1/2024
