My Dearest,
It’s heart’s day again and like every man who loves a woman dearly, I am looking forward to spending it with you.
But I am not like ‘every’ man. A soldier is not an ordinary man but it doesn’t mean he is extraordinary. No, a soldier is not a superman. Actually very far from being one. He has no special powers to do extraordinary things. He does not have wings, no iron fists, no impenetrable armor. There are some things common between superheroes and soldiers though- they are vulnerable because of their emotions. They are very weak, sometimes even very fragile especially when things they truly value or care for are at stake. They cry- silently; laugh- to their hearts content; smile- on simple joys; fret and frown- without showing it; live- “like- there-is- no- tomorrow (parang wala nang bukas?); and love- unconditionally yet not very vocal about it. Indeed, soldiers or warriors are like children too. They live, laugh and love like everyone else.
Soldiers are those who have chosen to ‘submit to their own free will to a law of perpetual constraint of their own accord. They resist their right to live where they choose, to say what they think, to dress as they like, it needs but an order to settle from their family and dislocate their NORMAL lives.’ You see, it’s Charles de Gaulle’s fault why soldiers like me are not ‘every’ man.
I am telling you this because being married to a soldier surely changed your life in many ways. Did I tell you that every soldier carries a big duffel bag where he can tuck away almost anything- worries, frustrations, anger, lust, love and laughter? They say, that the bigger a soldier’s duffel bag is, the better chances he has in surviving the ‘noisy confusion of life’. This bag can get broken or worn out over time. Some can get it fixed, others can’t. Duffel bags aren’t of the same sizes or make and their durability depends on how they are taken care of by their owners. Sometimes duffel bags can get too heavy to bear. It takes a great deal of strength to keep on carrying them on our back. In fact, it only becomes light when somebody helps us carry it- our loved ones, our families.
But I believe, wives- Army Wives, carry much bigger, expandable and stretchable bags with them. I guess that by now, you already have your own duffel bag overflowing with lots of things, most of them frustrations or disappointments. Let me guess. It must be full of disappointments over (my) unfulfilled promises of (us) being together; gripes over canceled rest and recreation or long- awaited leaves; insufficient salary to pay the bills; and yes, heartaches. I know that you’ve been carrying a lot of load and I wish I could carry them for you. I wish I could always be there when you need me especially during the times when you need somebody to just listen while you pour out the contents of your heart. But no, I am not always by your side physically. You are what my thoughts and dreams are always made of, yet it makes me feel bad every time I realize that I can’t be in two places at the same time. I know that you need me beside you as much as I need the two of you with me. So much for living normal family lives. So much for being not ‘every man’.
Since the day we met, I have always dreamed of spending every Valentine’s Day with you until we both grow old with gray hairs, weak knees and poor eyesight and poor hearing (yes you heard it right!). I want to spend every single day in the calendar with you even though we might grow so old to even see the numbers on it or to remember what day it is. As I am writing this letter, I frequently catch myself with a little smile on the corner of my lips (not that I am in front of a mirror). How nice would it be sitting on our porch, holding hands, sharing food that our toothless gums could barely bite? How sweet would it be recalling stories of our lives while watching our grandchildren frolicking on the lawn? Oh, yes, I want a big lawn and a wide porch where I can see the sun rise and set, or perhaps a porch that has a great view of the waves kissing the shore. I can almost see the two us still arguing about a lot of silly, irrelevant, impertinent and ‘what have you’ kinds of things. I can see myself laughing out loud in a hoarse voice because you lost an argument but you’re knees are too weak to stand and walk out, and you don’t have any choice but to just sit beside me and laugh at my silly jokes. Would you still cook my favorite food or would you ask somebody to do that, knowing that I only eat ‘to my stomach’s content’ if you’re the one who prepared the food?
Maybe, it is too early to think of growing old. But one thing’s for sure, I want to grow old with you. I wish we could grow young but nobody has ever done it so leave it there. We will grow old together. We will watch our grandchildren (I don’t know how many of them. Can you guess?). I wish we can still go to places around the country and all over the globe. By then we would have been able to visit the places included in our list. We would have been able to do everything in our bucket list or whatever list we have drawn up TOGETHER. By then, our memories would have limited space on it but I hope we could easily retrieve good old ‘files’ and walk through them. Glitches may happen and you and I might not be able to ‘read’ the memories and we might end up teasing each other with you-are-so-old jokes but we would end up laughing like fools. And here’s the catch: Ruthie (with her own family- husband and kids) would be laughing at us the way we laughed and talked behind the backs of our own parents. I can almost imagine Ruthie with her own “mini-me”- a curly- haired bubbly kid who would affectionately call us daddy-lo or mamita. I’m sure I would still be the spoiler that I am (and always will be) while you are the strict and firm but caring and affectionate mamita.
My musings today wouldn’t be complete without saying sorry for all the shortcomings and heartaches that this humble soldier has given you. There are times that I have unwisely criticized or gave you unsolicited advices when all you needed was reassurance from me, when all you wanted was for me to tell you ‘it’s okay mommy, no worries’; when all needed was for me to squeeze your hand with ‘I am here for you no matter what’; when all you wanted to hear is a simple compliment. Many times I have been a blind and a fool to forget that it wasn’t my good judgment nor my witty remarks that won your heart but by simply being me.
I wish I could put it together better than these simple words: Thank you for shining light in the darkest hours and thank you for straightening my life.
And when we are down there on the porch and lawn that I dream of, I will hug and kiss you tenderly, hold your hands and whisper on your ears- “Mommy, I have lived a wonderful life with you, and if by chance our Creator allows us to meet in the afterlife, I want us to be together even then”.
Happy Valentine’s Day…best friend, partner, life, wife.
Yours eternally,
It’s heart’s day again and like every man who loves a woman dearly, I am looking forward to spending it with you.
But I am not like ‘every’ man. A soldier is not an ordinary man but it doesn’t mean he is extraordinary. No, a soldier is not a superman. Actually very far from being one. He has no special powers to do extraordinary things. He does not have wings, no iron fists, no impenetrable armor. There are some things common between superheroes and soldiers though- they are vulnerable because of their emotions. They are very weak, sometimes even very fragile especially when things they truly value or care for are at stake. They cry- silently; laugh- to their hearts content; smile- on simple joys; fret and frown- without showing it; live- “like- there-is- no- tomorrow (parang wala nang bukas?); and love- unconditionally yet not very vocal about it. Indeed, soldiers or warriors are like children too. They live, laugh and love like everyone else.
Soldiers are those who have chosen to ‘submit to their own free will to a law of perpetual constraint of their own accord. They resist their right to live where they choose, to say what they think, to dress as they like, it needs but an order to settle from their family and dislocate their NORMAL lives.’ You see, it’s Charles de Gaulle’s fault why soldiers like me are not ‘every’ man.
I am telling you this because being married to a soldier surely changed your life in many ways. Did I tell you that every soldier carries a big duffel bag where he can tuck away almost anything- worries, frustrations, anger, lust, love and laughter? They say, that the bigger a soldier’s duffel bag is, the better chances he has in surviving the ‘noisy confusion of life’. This bag can get broken or worn out over time. Some can get it fixed, others can’t. Duffel bags aren’t of the same sizes or make and their durability depends on how they are taken care of by their owners. Sometimes duffel bags can get too heavy to bear. It takes a great deal of strength to keep on carrying them on our back. In fact, it only becomes light when somebody helps us carry it- our loved ones, our families.
But I believe, wives- Army Wives, carry much bigger, expandable and stretchable bags with them. I guess that by now, you already have your own duffel bag overflowing with lots of things, most of them frustrations or disappointments. Let me guess. It must be full of disappointments over (my) unfulfilled promises of (us) being together; gripes over canceled rest and recreation or long- awaited leaves; insufficient salary to pay the bills; and yes, heartaches. I know that you’ve been carrying a lot of load and I wish I could carry them for you. I wish I could always be there when you need me especially during the times when you need somebody to just listen while you pour out the contents of your heart. But no, I am not always by your side physically. You are what my thoughts and dreams are always made of, yet it makes me feel bad every time I realize that I can’t be in two places at the same time. I know that you need me beside you as much as I need the two of you with me. So much for living normal family lives. So much for being not ‘every man’.
Since the day we met, I have always dreamed of spending every Valentine’s Day with you until we both grow old with gray hairs, weak knees and poor eyesight and poor hearing (yes you heard it right!). I want to spend every single day in the calendar with you even though we might grow so old to even see the numbers on it or to remember what day it is. As I am writing this letter, I frequently catch myself with a little smile on the corner of my lips (not that I am in front of a mirror). How nice would it be sitting on our porch, holding hands, sharing food that our toothless gums could barely bite? How sweet would it be recalling stories of our lives while watching our grandchildren frolicking on the lawn? Oh, yes, I want a big lawn and a wide porch where I can see the sun rise and set, or perhaps a porch that has a great view of the waves kissing the shore. I can almost see the two us still arguing about a lot of silly, irrelevant, impertinent and ‘what have you’ kinds of things. I can see myself laughing out loud in a hoarse voice because you lost an argument but you’re knees are too weak to stand and walk out, and you don’t have any choice but to just sit beside me and laugh at my silly jokes. Would you still cook my favorite food or would you ask somebody to do that, knowing that I only eat ‘to my stomach’s content’ if you’re the one who prepared the food?
Maybe, it is too early to think of growing old. But one thing’s for sure, I want to grow old with you. I wish we could grow young but nobody has ever done it so leave it there. We will grow old together. We will watch our grandchildren (I don’t know how many of them. Can you guess?). I wish we can still go to places around the country and all over the globe. By then we would have been able to visit the places included in our list. We would have been able to do everything in our bucket list or whatever list we have drawn up TOGETHER. By then, our memories would have limited space on it but I hope we could easily retrieve good old ‘files’ and walk through them. Glitches may happen and you and I might not be able to ‘read’ the memories and we might end up teasing each other with you-are-so-old jokes but we would end up laughing like fools. And here’s the catch: Ruthie (with her own family- husband and kids) would be laughing at us the way we laughed and talked behind the backs of our own parents. I can almost imagine Ruthie with her own “mini-me”- a curly- haired bubbly kid who would affectionately call us daddy-lo or mamita. I’m sure I would still be the spoiler that I am (and always will be) while you are the strict and firm but caring and affectionate mamita.
My musings today wouldn’t be complete without saying sorry for all the shortcomings and heartaches that this humble soldier has given you. There are times that I have unwisely criticized or gave you unsolicited advices when all you needed was reassurance from me, when all you wanted was for me to tell you ‘it’s okay mommy, no worries’; when all needed was for me to squeeze your hand with ‘I am here for you no matter what’; when all you wanted to hear is a simple compliment. Many times I have been a blind and a fool to forget that it wasn’t my good judgment nor my witty remarks that won your heart but by simply being me.
I wish I could put it together better than these simple words: Thank you for shining light in the darkest hours and thank you for straightening my life.
And when we are down there on the porch and lawn that I dream of, I will hug and kiss you tenderly, hold your hands and whisper on your ears- “Mommy, I have lived a wonderful life with you, and if by chance our Creator allows us to meet in the afterlife, I want us to be together even then”.
Happy Valentine’s Day…best friend, partner, life, wife.
Yours eternally,
Soldier
