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An Old Soldier's PainWhen I arrived at 6am to share morning coffee, the lamp by the old tattered rocker, the one that hadn't worked for weeks was on. The lamp stood on the table, as he called it, but it was actually one of those old sixties television cabinets that had the picture tube removed. There was a bottle of open wine; two little glasses still full of the fermented grape drink, a cigar box and a poem. The poem touched me, it was a bit hard to read since J.C. had the shakes ever since Martha's passing a few months ago. I turned the lamp off and with reserve, quietly tiptoed towards his bedroom. It wasn't like him not to be up and about. I had always been greeted with the smell of coffee dominating the kitchen and a hint of bacon grease readied in a cast iron skillet, for two fried eggs over easy. When I opened the loose hinged door to Jake's bedroom, it looked as though 'ole Jake was asleep, finally, an expression of peace on his face. A note on the night stand beside his bed read --- " My friend, you will need to make the coffee yourself in the morning. It's 2am and my Martha is here with me. She is so beautiful. This room is filled with the most magnificent warm light I've ever seen, Martha fluffed her pillow, then laid it under my head, gave me a little kiss and told me that an angel was on the way to carry me home. Heaven, I guess, didn't ask, just know. . Don't feel bad about not making it over yesterday, don't blame you with the rain and all. As you can see, my hands stop shaking. I fixed the lamp Martha and I got as a wedding gift from Fred's mother. I should have let you� anyway, thanks for the dignity. I'm leaving this note so you don't worry about me, and to say I love you, guess I never used the word 'love" with you before, but I'm look'en it square in the eye right now. Just wanted to say thanks for helping with the bills and getting the groceries and stuff, mostly though, I'm trying to say I loved you for just hanging around an old coot like me --Thank you! � See you on the other side." Jake C. � Yes I saved the note! And I did make the coffee that morning. Not being able to drink the coffee at the kitchen table, like I had so many mornings before with Jake and all his stories, I went into the living room. Bravely I sat in my friend's old rocker. Then reread the poem with the familiar sound of the old rocking chairs quiet swish. I mustered the courage to open the old cigar box. On top of several musty pieces of stationary was a woman's diamond ring. Try as I might I wasn't able to slow my tears. Reckon I cried a little, back when I was a kid, but this was different. I wept because I knew I had touched a sacred purity, a love I had no right to invade. There was enough room in the cigar box for the two little wineglasses. I cradled Jake's hand written poem between the two glasses and gently laid them with the ring and stationary in the cigar box, dried my tears, closed the lid, turned on the lamp and set a spell� just because. Then, finished my coffee --- and thanked God for the old solider in my life .
Jake's poem A Soldier CriesAfter the hard days rain I sit alone and drink wine Recollection bubbles start filling my mind Floating me down memory lane You waited for me back in '44 I can still smell your breath, and feel your good-bye kisses As I boarded the train--- that took us boys to war You wrote every day, sealing your letters with perfume Back then they were my lifeline-- and I'm reading 'em all again. I wrote back 'bout my dead buddies and blood in- uh-- the snow About praying with Fred, only you could know How my tears froze and God seemed so far And Fred's mom, when taps were sounded, she was ..� Well--- just never was the same, Being with you for the past 56 years, like her, I can't let go The last 89 long nights, this chair has held my frailty Our old wedding lamp is broke, my hands shake too much to fix it These stupid trimmers never quit The third street lamp, down from vine Gives light. but the shadows it cast are not so kind The morning sun will mark 90 days Since I've held the hand I love to hold I hate the grave that separates me from you Thank God no snow, but my bones are cold. So� cold I've waited up for you, kinda like uh-- old war-horse dammed But tonight� I'll try our bed And hold the pillow that held your head Tell the truth�..I tried it once before. But I cried like�well like When I prayed and carried my buddy Fred And like the night you�well you know what you said. Today I thought � I heard your voice in the rain Maybe�. I think that maybe I did But tonight I'm alone again --drink'en wine Still pour two glasses One is yours -- one is mine Then I read your letters all anew Oh God, the hurt, the void-- Reckon it's true--- 'bout heavens gain' But how do I handle all this pain? �..�with out you Oh dear, my darling endless love Please talk to me tonight As I lay my head upon your pillow ����And wait������. � Written By: Doug van Wyk � 2000 �
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