Letters From Afghanistan

Letters From Afghanistan - Chapter 3

Photo of Jasper on the side, isn't he a cutie? ---------------------------->

It’s been two weeks since Chase’s letter came through my front door, and I can’t help but feel slightly happier now that I’ve finally had all my questions answered. Although I’m not completely happy that he didn’t die instantly, at least he had Chase there with him when I couldn’t be. I couldn’t have asked for more than that.

For days now, I’ve been shutting myself away in my study, trying helplessly to write a reply to his letter. But no matter how hard I’ve tried, or how many attempts, I just can’t find the right words to express how I feel or how much his letter meant to me.

Undeniably, I am slightly annoyed that he waited a whole year before sending it to me, letting my fears and worries eat away at me as I couldn’t stop wondering what had really happened out there that day. But I knew deep down that he was right. If he had sent it to me so soon after his death, I don’t know what I would have done. I wouldn’t have been as understanding, that’s for sure.

I sighed as I scrunched up the paper I had been writing on and chucked it at the overflowing waste bin. I don’t know why I’m so worried about what to write about, or what he would think of me. After all, I’ve never met him and doubt that I ever will. He’s on the other side of the world, fighting in a war and witnessing things that could ever only exist in my nightmares. Who is he to judge who I am, and how I feel.

Looking down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me, I decided to write from my heart. For once, I wouldn’t care what any one thinks of me. I’d write about how I really feel and not the lies I tell everyone, or hide behind the act I put that lets people assume that I’m okay.

My pen glided fluently across the page as everything I’ve been bottling up and hiding away came tumbling out. It wasn’t long before I finished the first page and moved on to the next one.

It wasn’t until the end of the fourth page that I ran out of words and signed my name at the bottom. I shuffled the pages back into order and started rereading what I had wrote, making sure there were no mistakes or anything too embarrassing for anyone else to read.

Dear Chase,

I can’t thank you enough for your letter, not only did it answer all my questions, it also helped me to sleep at night knowing that he wasn’t alone and he was with people who loved and cared about him.

I’m so grateful that you fought so hard to keep him alive, and kept talking to him. Words can’t express how much that means to me. For the past year now, I’ve been constantly worrying over how he died and if he died in pain and alone. But now I know that although he didn’t die instantly, you were with him and helped him through it. I couldn’t have asked for more than that, and I owe a lot to you.

I can’t say this year has been easy; it’s been far from it. But I’m glad that you waited before sending me the letter, if I had it any sooner I doubt I could have handled it as well as I have now. And I’d hate to think that I would have taken my anger and pain out on you, since you definitely don’t deserve that.

I’d like to say that my brother told me about you, but honestly he didn’t. He didn’t talk at all about what happened when he’s away, and I never pressed him for information. That’s what I regret now. I’ve never understood his job, and although I know I should respect his decisions and be proud of all he did for our country, I couldn’t help but feel hurt that he chose such a risky job when he knew what it would do to me if anything happened to him.

I don’t know if he told you about our parents, but they died in a car crash when I was six and Chris was nine. We had no other family so got sent straight into care homes and foster families. Chris fought hard to keep as together and thankfully we were never separated. I dread to think what would have happened if we did. It’s hard enough to lose your parents, let alone your brother as well.