Sealed And Delivered

Prologue

Saturday, June 15th
 

Part I - Shattered

Monday, April 21st – Eleven Years Before
 

Part II - Doubt

Thursday, November 13th – The Early Years
 

Part III - Miracle

Saturday, July 1st – Four Years On
 

Part IV - Glimpse
Thursday, January 3rd – Six Years More
 

Part V - Peace
Thursday, September 20th – Saturday, May 4th
 

Epilogue
Wednesday, June 12th

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Prologue
 

Saturday, June 15th

Dear Paul,

One good turn deserves another. Your letter, along with the one you found from Annah, inspired me.

I saved all her letters, year’s worth. I offer them to you. I doubt you will find much here that you don’t know generally, but I think they are worth reading. They reflect a woman's honest, probing search. I expect you will appreciate them as much as I have. Some letters delve into tough topics, though you shouldn’t have trouble with the context as you read them.

May you find blessing here.
Sincerely,

Rey Bridges
c/o H. Singer, Assistant

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Part I - Shattered

Monday, April 21st

Rey, my dear, precious, broken Rey,

      What am I to do now? Waiting is torment. My heart and soul feel severed from reality. You lie covered in bandages and your uncertain future has landed me in a nightmare; a floating, ghostly world that feels real, but mustn’t be. I can’t afford it to be. You haven’t awakened and I can’t sleep.

      Tears are locked deeper than I can tap. Writing might keep me from losing my mind.

      I got the news of your injury last Friday. I was late to work, having over-slept my alarm. That was odd because I finally got my teeth into a new project and I was giddy at the thought of your homecoming. Determined to make up time, I was absorbed at my computer when Marcy called sometime around 3 p.m. to say I had visitors. “They look official,” she said.

      There were two men and a woman, standing straight, tall, and spit-shined in uniforms that shouted “strong, brave, and superior.” The looks on their faces belied a different mission.

      The commander took the lead, “Mrs. Bridges, may we go into your office? If you would like, your assistant can join us.”

      The blood drained from my face, I was light-headed and sick to my stomach, my knees wobbled. The chaplain took my arm and walked me to the chair in my office, followed by the sergeant and Marcy.

      It wasn’t like in the movies, the announcement. They didn’t stand ramrod erect, stare straight ahead, or say disembodied words like a team of robotic doomsayers completing an unpleasant task. Tenderness bathed their tone. Respect.

      Their compassion seemed as necessary for them as for me, since the brutal fact couldn’t be sidestepped. “Ma’am, we’re here to inform you that your husband, Captain Rey Bridges, stepped on an improvised explosive device while on patrol. He’s being evacuated to Landstuhl Army Medical Center where he will get emergency treatment. As soon as he is deemed viable, he will be brought to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.”