Fear of a Life Well Lived

Trigger Warning: Contains mentions of war, grief, anxiety surrounding a child's safety, and death:

The wind blew softly, the smell of fresh dirt hung in the air. Thoughts swirled in Jenna’s mind. She held the flowers, a proud mother, a monumental moment. The procession of these minutes culminated a life well lived. Friends and family were gathered to celebrate his life, his achievement. The proud trumpets played soft and triumphant. Despite the peacefulness, it transported her to the memories of the moments she had feared the most. 

Danny, a baby, his face peaceful in silent slumber. Jenna watched over his cradle, fussing over a blanket or a sigh. Certain that his cries meant he needed her but that she would be ill equipped to help him. His helpless little body entirely dependent on her care. What would life be like without him?

Danny, as a toddler at the department store, unassuming and innocent. Jenna turned for only a second and he wandered away. Frantic, she searched, calling out his name—“Danny!” Her silent panic turned to violent screams when she could not locate his face. Her heartbeat rapidly knowing for certain he was taken… only to find his tiny shoes hiding amongst the clothing racks.  

Danny, the ten year old, fearless and brave. The infection set in so deep, his face a soft shade of white, sweat beaded on his brow. Jenna, afraid of every cough, every wheezing breath, as she awaited “the turn” the doctors promised was coming. Danny’s fever climbed so high his body was racked with violent seizures though mercifully it had broken in the night. A soft smile. A thankful cry.  

Danny, a new driver, reckless and invincible like most teens. Jenna's heart dropped to her knees when the call came. An accident…an ambulance… a fear unsolicited. Tubes, doctors, and the beep-beep-beep of the monitor. Hours and waiting. Tears and prayers. 

Danny, a college graduate, a success, walked into adulthood. Jenna, a proud mother, suppressed the niggling fear of whether she had prepared him enough. The fear of whether she had equipped him to be successful on his own. 

Each of these memories, a reminder of the countless hours Jenna had spent fretting and worrying about things outside of her control. Frets and worries that kept her up many nights. Now here she stood, handing the flowers to her son. A single tear streamed down her face. Another memory came to the forefront of her mind.  

Danny, her only child. Jenna was so proud of the person he had become. So very proud of his hard work and sense of adventure. When his nation’s need arose, Danny did not hesitate to enlist. He entered the fight as an officer, duty and honor his mantra. Jenna awaited every letter with bated breath. Thankful for his updates and prayerful for his return. The news reported the atrocities of the conflict and the casualties of war. “Protect him,” Jenna prayed. She clung to those words for two long years. 

Danny’s letters were like him—bright, joyous, and positive. He reported on the friends he’d made—Sam and Isaiah his best. Sam, a jokester and live wire, full of endless stories and pranks. Isaiah, a grounding force of wisdom and graciousness. He was the one who brought calm in the chaos and a kind word of encouragement at the most opportune time according to Danny. His letters were full of stories of those two, along with news on the lives he had been a part of serving and the people his unit had saved. 

Jenna longed for the day that Danny would return. The day that she would meet him in his uniform and see him again. She dreamed of the life he would one day lead once his service was no longer required. A bride. A family. Or would some darker fate await him? Would the visions of war replay in his mind and cause endless trauma like so many servicemen of combat? She prayed relentlessly that would not be the case. That his end would be peaceful and rewarding. A pride filled memory of a life given to the service of others. A tribute to a life well lived. 

Day after day, Jenna waited for her son a world away to return. She carried on with life—working, sleeping, eating, praying but unable to squelch the fear completely. Her mind took her to that cold day in April when the final letter arrived. He was coming home. Silent tears streaked down her cheeks. She would see him again soon. 

The memory hung untethered now in her mind. Here she stood, the breeze blowing her hair, clinging to his letter and a fresh bouquet of flowers that would soon wilt away. The troops had returned. Families hugged her neck, the trumpets honored, the guns saluted. Jenna thought of another few moments. 

Danny, in a black suit, smiling at the front of the church. His beautiful bride dressed in white walking down the aisle. Jenna, holding back tears as he says his vows and kisses his bride. The honor of being the mother of the groom was a true delight as she danced with her son under the twinkling stars one final time. Jenna waved at him, throwing rice, and cheering as the happy couple drove off into the future of their new life. 

Danny, a new father, holding his own precious child in his arms. His salt and pepper hair and smile lines showing as he proudly gazes at his new son. Jenna, awaiting her turn to hold the little bundle, all the same fears as a grandma now passed on to her new grandbaby.

The last two thoughts ebbed away by the final moments of the service honoring her son. Jenna pondered the great honor of being a mother. The privilege of carrying that life in her body, the calling to nurture and protect him, and the delight of watching him grow and mature. But she also pondered the fear that lingered even now. The endless fear for his safety, for the circumstances out of Jenna’s immediate control, and for the ultimate fear of failing him.

As the final trumpet finished, and the flowers were given and the final words were spoken, Jenna looked down at her son. The tears now streaming unrestrained. She reflected once again of her last two thoughts—Danny a groom—Danny a father…only they were not memories but wishes. She knelt to the ground, raking her fingers through the soft dirt. The same fear that had plagued her Danny’s entire life now before her on a stone etched with his name. 

What would life be like without him?