Gift of Life

Evening came around quickly and at 18:30 I pulled the pot roast out of the oven to place it on the dining table that sat six. Today I turned 35 and on this special occasion all the plates were set and the food for my birthday feast were ready to be served. All the favorites; filet mignon, lamb stew, alaskan sea bass, rice pilaf, and eggplant lasagna were cooked to perfection. For dessert, homemade pecan pie and blue berry crumble were on the side waiting for me. Usually I would have to wait in anticipation for my turn, but no one else was here to challenge me on this evening.

Ever since moving, I haven’t had the time to get acquainted with new friends and with that bitter divorce still fresh in mind, where my ex-wife took full custody of our children, my guest list for the night's festivities included only myself and the silence that echoed through the room. Nevertheless, I lit the candles to commence this celebration as I took a sip from the glass and declared myself a toast. “To my last birthday,” I said.

When I drank that dark red colored wine, it triggered emotions that I experienced during my family’s separation. I was 'too much of an alcoholic' our case worker would always protest. Also, a lot of it was based on the idea that I was too much of a danger around everyone, including myself. To be honest, they were completely right.

I was an engineer technician for special forces and ever since my many tours, I had been actively seeking treatment for the ongoing PTSD I suffered. Most particularly, during a mission on my final tour, my whole squad got ambushed by insurgents as we patrolled a supposedly friendly village. Out of the twelve operators, only myself and Captain David Luttrell survived. It was the worst thing I had ever lived through and for several months after I was too checked out to function properly. I tried my best but I could not stop reliving the images of my buddies Tom, Jake, Pat, and Aaron getting there bodies sliced in half by a barrage of bullets. Lastly, I could not get over the idea that I only survived because their lives were used as a shield to preserve mine.

As the memories came flooding in, I started to break down uncontrollably and thought to myself that if they were still here they’d be at this dinner party celebrating alongside my family. It took a couple minutes of sobbing for my tear ducts to run low on ammunition. Then I was finally able to get hold of myself and put the focus back at the table.

I regained posture and proceeded to fill my plate with all the variety I could muster. I looked down at my food once I felt satisfied with my choices and I noticed the blemishes on my dress blues. Droplets of water and food sauces were stained on the wool sleeves and any perceived perception of this formal attire were disrupted. However, I paid it no mind once I recognized the metal tag on my chest that scribed my last name, Delgado, on the right side and also the cascade of ribbons on the left. Suddenly, I didn’t feel hungry anymore.

Rather than forcing myself to eat, I decided to skip towards the big announcement I had planned. “Attention everyone,” I declared to the empty room, my voice reverberating towards the walls and ceiling. “I have a few things to say.”

I pulled the pistol from its hip holster and placed it beside my plate. Next, I retrieved the suicide letter from my suit pocket. These were my final words and it was a way for the people I loved to better understand. It also provided some type of closure for this situation. With that, I unfolded the paper then cleared my throat to prepare for the announcement.

“Dear family and friends,” I read out loud. “I know these last few years have been tough for all of us due to my actions. Because of this, I take full responsibility for my inability to adapt and I deeply apologize for not being able to put myself in the best position to possible to meet your needs. I did my best but my best simply wasn’t enough.” As I spoke, I noticed myself shaking so I paused and took a sip of wine to calm my nerves.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” I continued as I took a deep breath. “However, I have enough awareness to know what I must do. In order to stop being a burden to my family, friends, and the rest of society, I must pay the ultimate sacrifice.”

Again I was struggling to say the words, I took another deep breath to regain composure. “To my family,” I choked. “To my loving wife Emily, I will always love you. To my wonderful children, Junior, Nicole, Natalie, and Isaac, you are the greatest joys in my life. I am so grateful that we brought you into this world and I hope that your future’s are bright and that life brings you many blessings. I know that I won’t be there physically, but I will always be here for you in spirit. It will be hard to comprehend but one day I hope you understand why. Your daddy will always love you and don’t let my tragedy prevent you from living your best lives. With all the love in the world, forever yours, loving father and Army Staff Sergeant, Michael Delgado.”

When I finished the letter, I felt a an array of emotions and a very deep suffering. Having this stout indignation towards these circumstances, I was ready to take my own life. I proceeded to check my pistol to ensure it was properly loaded. With a full magazine in hand, I sent a round in the chamber as I cocked and released the slide back into position. The safety lever was adjusted and it was ready for the job.

Instantly I placed the weapon towards the soft tissue underneath my jaw and had the gun pointed towards the ceiling. This action was something I had been practicing every night. I had to make sure that my muscle memory would routinely allow me to complete the task without hesitation. It takes a lot to pull a trigger on yourself and hearing the loud click of a firing pin striking an empty chamber is jarring. The gravity of the act is surreal and although I’ve prepared, there is nothing like the actual arena. My moment of truth had finally came.

With all things in place, I took a deep calming breath just like I’ve practiced and prepared my count down from five. I counted, “Five…four…three…two…one.” But before I reached the end, the door bell rang with the sound of a buzzer. I missed my shot as I had hesitated to pull the trigger. Panting, I dropped the gun and felt a wave of energy collapse me into a slumped position. Propped at the end of the table I threw up with an empty stomach and felt the surge of my diaphragm engulfing large pockets of air. Then, the bell rang once more.

I composed myself and darted towards the front door. When I opened, the delivery guy was getting back in his vehicle, and at my doorstep was a brown package the size of a shoe box. As he pulled away, we made eye contact and exchanged a slight wave. Looking at the suspicious item, it resembled a care package similar to the ones we received on deployments. Usually they had a bunch of goodies that were sent by family, friends, or charitable organizations. I grabbed it and ran back inside.

“From: Pastor Latrell” was written on the shipping label. “This must be David,” I thought to myself. Then, I sat down on the sofa with the package in both hands. I tore open the brown wrapping and inside was a neat white gift box that had a golden cross inscribed on it’s cover. Next, I gently removed the top and inside was a white transparent envelop tied together by a red ribbon. Revealing itself beneath it was a plaque containing a picture of our old team and the squadron motto carved on the edges: For those we value, we would die to protect. For those we love, we would live to continue serving.

After a moment of reminiscing, I meticulously opened the letter. It read:

Dear Mikey, I hope all is well with you brother. It hasn’t always been easy these past few years but I’ve made due and found my second calling in life. Who would have thought I’d ever be a preacher? Life works in mysterious ways doesn’t it? I’ve been blessed with a new perspective on life and Martha and I just had our first baby! She’s only a couple weeks old and I would love for you to meet her. Anyways, I hope this package arrives at the right time and I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Take care brother. Let’s talk soon. Sincerely, Captain David “Dynamite” Latrell.

When I finished the letter, I dropped back and felt the warmth growing in my heart. The cold bleakness started to melt away and the quality of everything around me grew in clarity. I looked at our image and recalled the bonds of friendships we developed through hard times and my tears began to form. These brave men with their battle uniforms and iconic green berets meant the world to me. My brothers protected me during war, and in this celebration of life, they had saved me once again.