50. The Things I Wear

"In a story, which is kind of dreaming, the dead sometimes smile and sit up and return to the world."

~Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried

In his book, The Things They Carried, author Tim O'Brien catalogues the variety of things his fellow Soldiers brought with them on combat missions during the Vietnam War.  Several of these things are intangible, including guilt and fear, while others are specific physical objects, including matches, morphine, M-16 rifles, and M&Ms.  It makes me think about the things I've carried with me over the past few years in an attempt to keep Jon as close to me as physically possible.  Maybe calling them the things I've carried isn't completely accurate - it's more like the things I wear.  Take, for example, the Captain's rank I wear on my uniform to work every day.  It's the same rank Jon was wearing on his body armor the day he died. His friend brought the patch home for me from Iraq, and I was promoted from Lieutenant to Captain in it by Jon's dad a couple of years ago. Whenever I wash my ACU top, I always make sure that I take I take the rank off first - in fact, it's never been washed, so it's pretty dirty and grubby at this point, but I think that's okay. Some crusty old-school Sergeant Major might yell at me about it one day, but I'll have a decent response ready: My husband was promoted to Captain in this rank, he deployed wearing this rank, and he died serving his country wearing this rank. How can anyone argue with that?

Clean ACU top, grubby Captain's Rank...I think it looks pretty good!

It's like the rings I wear - until a couple of days ago, I've been wearing four rings for quite a while now: My wedding and engagement rings on my left hand and my husband's wedding ring and a cheap ring to keep it in place on my right. The real rings are made of platinum and come from a store called Barmakian Jewelers in New Hampshire - Jon insisted not only on the platinum, but also on the source of all the jewelry. He was very particular - and cute - about things like that. The cheap ring was from Target, and inside were inscribed the words Imagine, Believe, Receive. I always liked this message...and besides, I needed some way to ensure that Jon's ring, which is too big for me, wouldn't fly off my finger and get lost forever. My engagement ring used to be that way - just days after Jon gave it to me, it slid off in the shower and came close to disappearing down the drain. It was already insured - Jon knew me all too well and made certain of that as soon as he proposed to me - but after that happened, we had it refitted so there would be no more close calls. When it came to having his own wedding ring sized, we had to account for the fact that Jon's knuckles were rather fat; in fact, we practiced putting on his ring several times before the wedding ceremony since it took a good amount of force to get it on his finger. That's why it's still too big for me now, even though Jon's hands were, overall, the same size as mine...and incredibly cute.

According to Army regulations, you're only allowed to wear two rings in duty uniform, so my four rings are technically pushing the limit. Three of the four, however, the most important of all my worldly possessions because of what they signify. Ever since my Casualty Assistance Officer hand-delivered it to me, I've always held tightly onto Jon's wedding ring in some way or another - around my neck on a chain, on my dog tags, or on my finger. Although I'm constantly afraid I'll lose it, I don't feel right without it. I'm honestly amazed the ring was able to be retrieved after everything that happened on the day Jon died - his body was thrown out his M1114 up-armored Humvee with such force that it's a miracle it stayed on his finger, fat knuckles and all. My sister, who hasn't seen me since last summer, asked me during a family reunion last weekend about why I still wear my own wedding rings. She said that people will think I'm still married. I told her that was kind of the point - guys don't bother me so much when they think I'm taken, and besides, in my heart, I'll always be Jon's wife.  I guess my ex-boyfriend was right about one thing:  While he and I still were dating, I often struggled with how to handle my wedding rings and would wear them from time to time when I was feeling particularly troubled.  He'd get upset and told me he didn't think it was appropriate.  I apologized and told him I wouldn't wear them anymore if it bothered him that much, but he predicted he'd see them on my hand again before too long.  Again, I don't give him credit for being right about many things, but I guess he was right about that much.

When I went swimming during the family reunion this past weekend, the cheap ring that's been keeping Jon's ring in place for a while now became tarnished and discolored. Losing the cheap ring to the chlorinated pool was literally like a light bulb going off in my head. It made me realize that the best place for Jon's ring is on my left hand with my two wedding rings - there's no way I'll lose it there since mine are slightly tight, if anything. The right hand now feels strangely naked, and I keep thinking I've done exactly what I fear most (i.e. losing Jon's wedding ring). But when I look down, it's perfectly safe alongside the beautiful engagement ring with which Jon proposed to me and the wedding ring with which I became his wife. It feels right there - after experimenting with it on different hands and fingers and necklaces over the past five years, I think it may very well be where it belongs.

Besides Jon's wedding ring and the rank he was wearing when he died, I also have my two memorial tattoos. I never thought of myself as the tattoo type and swore for the longest time that I didn't want one - to be honest, I still think many tattoos are a little silly and I don't get some of the recent bandwagon fads, like Japanese characters, butterflies, dolphins, and random swirly tribal designs. Unless they mean something deeply personal to the person who's choosing to burn the surface of their skin with ink that won't wash off for the rest of their life, I don't quite understand the need to get something so permanent. Before I lost Jon, there was nothing important enough in my life that made me want to make a physical statement with some fancy tattoo design; now, however, I understand the need to have a symbol of Jon and our love with me at all times.  The two memorial tattoos I've had done over the past few years allow me to do just that.

My first tattoo just minutes after it was completed

The first one was an almost instantaneous, no-brainer decision within a month of Jon's death; it's on my left upper back and depicts the Gold Star with Jon's initials nestled between the points of the star. The only thing I felt undecided about when it came to getting this tattoo was its location - initially, all I knew was that I did not want it centered on my lower back because of the stereotypical message conveyed by tattoos in this general vicinity. After careful consideration, the upper back seemed like the most subtle but meaningful spot for it. I was incredibly happy with how this first tattoo came out but didn't feel quite done. I'm not sure how to describe the feeling of not being "done" with tattoos, but it took several more months before I decided on another appropriate design for my second and final tattoo tribute to Jon.

My newly remodeled tattoo at T+5 days - healing quite nicely

The second tattoo is a combination of a broken heart, a Soldier's cross, and the words with which Jon and I signed our cards and letters and emails to one another. They're also the words we chose to have inscribed on his headstone: Loved Always & Forever. It's been almost five years since I got the first half of the tattoo done, and it wasn't until last week that I finally decided to add the dates of Jon's birth and death to the top of the original design. I knew this second tattoo needed something more to be complete, but it's taken me years to figure out exactly what would look best. I even had my friend draw the dates on my arm with a ballpoint pen before committing to the tattoo appointment, just to make sure I liked how it would look. Like isn't quite how I'd describe it - I love it. What better to add to the original artists's beautiful handiwork than the two dates that, for me, will always live in infamy?

Finally, there's the ID bracelet I've worn for the past five years. The original bracelet was designed and ordered for me by a group of Jon and I's closest college friends. It was inscribed with the all the standard identifying information on the outside (name, rank, dates of birth and death, unit, place of death) and on the inside were the words "Beloved Husband." I took it off only once when I had to do so prior to going into surgery...and even then, I felt naked without it. The second and final time I removed it wasn't by choice either - it's because the metal broke after so much wear. While sitting at my desk at work and playing with it absentmindedly, the bracelet snapped into two pieces. I panicked and immediately jumped online to order a new one. I changed the wording of what appears on the new bracelet slightly, but the essence of its message is exactly the same. I also added the phrase "Loved Always & Forever."

The last fallen Soldier from the Iraq war honored last week after he succumbed to his war-related injuries. His name was Carl Deward Hall III and he was buried at Ft. Rosencrans. He was an Army Specialist and is remembered by those who love him as a father, a husband, and a war hero. Envisioning the family of Specialist Hall at the very beginning of their journey of grief brought back many sad memories, and it made me wonder what they'll choose to carry with them - or wear - as the years pass by. Sometimes when I think about the things I wear (and carry), the weight of it all brings me down - hard. I'll fiddle with my wedding rings and pretend for a few moments that everything is normal and fine and that Jon is still here with me...until I'm reminded by all the other symbols of his absence that that pretense is just a dream. Mostly, though, I feel proud to have shared my life with someone of Jon's calibre and to be the one responsible for honoring his memory now that he's gone. I do this - and always will - with the things I wear. They're not just things, but proof of a life well-lived...and a man who will always be loved.